Poetry by Justin Blasdel

David and Harry’s Pear Orchard

Rows and rows of them,
Very perfectly aligned,
Correcting Nature.

Their baubles grown fat,
Weighing mother’s hand too low,
Most have been let go.

Those on the ground rot
Their perfect ripeness to waste,
No help to save them.

And then comes the cold,
Worse than it has in decades,
No one’s prepared.

Drivers off road,
Houses covered in white,
The cold air lies still.

The orchard is bare
No leaves, no fruit, no color,
Brown limbs peek through snow.

It’s somehow perfect,
Cloudy trees all in a row,
Shining with sunlight.

Crater Lake

A trail among trees,
One which tickles the blue sky,
It always ascends.

The air is sweeter,
Purified by the heavens,
And washed by the stars.

Earth is cracked open,
Old scars too deep to traverse,
Too many to count.

The trail is secured,
Man’s law takes its toll from all,
Keeping nature whole.

The path continues,
It winds and twists on itself,
It tries to lose you.

After the last step
What was a point is now flat,
And is welcoming.

But the eye can’t see,
For a fog has blinded it,
Hiding the great site.

Then, it moves away,
What was thought fog is now a cloud,
We are in the sky.

A circle drop off,
The trail travels around it,
Deceptively long.

Sun shines through its mask,
Gracing the secluded lake,
Hints of a smile.

More pure than the rain,
It’s waters are kissed by the wind,
And waves from afar.

In here is the peak,
Once the crown of a Titan,
Now, a small island.

From all its angles,
This world wonder shines bright,
Even in its shade.

When leaving for home,
I think back on that mountain,
And I am at home.

Controlled Burn

First, the smell burns you,
Natural instincts start screaming,
The eyes look for red.

Then sight becomes dry,
Grey matter filling the air,
Turning clear to haze.

The city burning,
But not one house is ablaze,
What should be is not.

Nature feels the heat,
Dry weeds turning into ash,
Fallen limbs dissolve.

Death bleeds through the sky
Silk sheets stained a ruddy hue,
By the sun’s one eye.

But the city’s safe.
What could catch spark is no more,
And the people rest.

Katy in Medford

She peers and she smirks,
Silence is met with hello’s,
Even with none back.

She makes you a friend,
And tells you her life story,
Then you do the same.

In the night city,
Fun chaos follows her wake.
Interesting times.

Within her warm home,
Mother stern and kind lives there.
No father to care.

She needs to love more,
But none unbound are worth it.
The bleak search goes on.

Sadness has not won.
She keeps many in her heart,
And thrive on their light.

Bio pictureJustin Blasdel is a professionally trained playwright who has been writing and creating art for over ten years.  He has won a place in the Astoria’s New Playwright’s festival, and he currently has one of his pieces of digital art in the L. Alan Arts Project gallery.  He is married and has one child, and is currently living in Medford, Oregon.


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