I took a walk on o’er the hill.
The autumn breeze raked trees with chill.
They stood against the winter’s will,
And my will barred it, too.

I did not want its ice or snow,
Not high on hill or far below;
Perhaps the fall could fell this foe
And colors win, more true.

But wind came from the farthest North,
And quelled rebellion, then sent forth
A snow that snatched the leaves’ self-worth;
They on the ground accrued.

We cannot hold to reds and golds,
Nor stop the winds that make us old;
Yet, as I watched what’s cold unfold,
I longed for spring I knew.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016




This forest from another world
Appears to glow with constant ray,
In fade of light resembles day;
I hold it in my palm as pearl.

If heaven waits, lone midnight dream,
If hope is bound with truth to heart,
If love lays anchored to a part
Of soul, all would be as this seems.

If life stood still as does today,
I’d pause this moment, close my eye,
Yes, lay in rest and gladly die
To wander down such golden way.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016




Her gate left open
None will dare to enter in
Still my heart’s aflame

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



His father aptly named him Freeland;
It would come to describe the man
Who settled at foot of Closton Hill.
This babe seemed small to have such will.

But then came 1857.
He started to build his heaven
When he married Adrianna.
Through their sweat they built an empire.

In time, to them were three children born
To strengthen and their home adorn.
They cleared, then all worked the fields, which stretched
Down through the mountain’s fingertips.

There, today some crumbling walls still stand,
Mere remnant of man’s lofty plans,
Of all laid in the land. Cornerstone
Now marks the grave of once proud home.

In time fields were lost, obscured, you see,
As hill reclaimed them, tree-by-tree.
No built thing lasts eternally.
Yet land stays–like the man–still free.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



the lay o’ land,
the lay o’ land
waits patiently,
it sits upon
no change o’ plan,
no change o’ plan
or destiny;
it stands the strains
of time, you see.

the lay o’ you,
the lay o’ you,
impressed in me,
in silence waits
same way, you see;
our paths shall meet
and we will greet,
to roam hills, free.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016

SHE ROSE (1861)


She rose ‘fore dawn, that maiden fair,
to till the ground and children raise,
to mend their cloth and bring in hay,
to tend the herd and cook a hare.

She held the hills upon her frame
while men arose and went to war,
while roof leaked, rotted to the core.
She tried to patch—then message came—

Many townsmen, like hers, refrained
to return; some did, in box of pine.
Few that remained, as she, in time
grew gray, their pride through pain retained.

As tale ends, she found another,
like-minded, lean and loved in heart,
they two conjoined to never part.
Today he rests ‘pon hills with her,

With all their children at their feet;
as such, they’re seen each autumn morn
in daylight’s sheen, their form reborn,
and still upon the mountains meet.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016

owl’s last dirge


owl’s last dirge with dawn
glimpse in distance of my peak
still my trail lays long

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



He stabs at foes deemed little more than shadows,
And saves a lass with no wish to be saved;
He dreams in blooms that lie across a meadow
Which sowers past have taken down and razed.

He knows a faith which stares beyond the faithless,
And sees a storm in skies with scarce a cloud.
He loves with love as lost as it is endless,
And speaks with truth few care to speak aloud.

He could be mad, if madness had such power,
And could be hope, if hope a simple song.
For men as he, life lived is fraught with danger—
To men as he, one right supplants all wrong.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



She stands, though battered from the rain,
Stays true in spirit, despite pain.
Her hopes ascend for all to see,
Wide wall against adversity.

Though snows have worn at face till smooth,
Have carved out every scar and groove,
Her beauty’s chiseled in each line;
A peace pervades within her mind.

It makes me struggle more to peer
Within a soul I now hold dear.
It makes me pray to share her space,
To enter ‘neath her cloud and grace

To place of pleasure, peak of love.
Her trail winds steep and high above
The loneliness of life below.
Yet, just to live in her shadow,

To ponder futures wished, unknown,
To kneel before her apron’s throne
Is enough! Peaks as these men find
They must climb, destinies entwined.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



These stones, well-worn by tears and time,
And crumbling under pitch of pine,
House their life stories, put to rest
Beneath the soil of brine and test.

They pioneered and ruled the land
That warred against their hopes and plans.
They cleared the fields, then straightened tall,
And made each stone their castle wall.

They loved and lived and fought in wars,
And wore their passions and their scars
As medals, leaving peace and pleasure
To plant beneath the ground their treasure.

Walls laid were strewn by nature, men,
Yet yearn to be rebuilt again.
But all their dreams remain buried
Beneath burden they once carried;

Covered, each man lays with story
Left untold, both sin and glory,
His mansion tilled beneath the earth
And all he toiled for of true worth.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



The leaves lay, fallen on God’s lawn,
Accounts in full are overdrawn,
For life must reap what life has sown,
Though color still remains.

It seems as if they breathe last breath,
Yet will not settle down to death,
Still reaching where they’ve laid and wept,
Enduring heartfelt pain.

I hope when I have reached their state
I don’t accept affront of fate,
That for my grave I am bit late,
To live where I have lain,

To keep on reaching for the sky,
To lean on elbow, peering high,
To not stop seeking how and why
Life leaves, yet cannot tame,

To hold to day as planets, stars,
To reach for light though darkness bars,
To fall to earth, bright, fighting wars,
To show that hope still reigns.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016

all leaves are freeing


all leaves are freeing, rich, overgrown,
receding; bright colors dry and fade.
a frost has evened out the glade
as pitched youth and these are sown.

such is autumn, rising of the mist,
clear as coyness, crying from a depth
where, preset pillow, here i’ve slept,
dreaming, too soon slain by bliss.

it is autumn; coolness grips, shadow
that runs down blushed lovers lain within,
this struggle, lost, with soul and sin,
in streams upon pine’s pillow.

eric m. vogt
copyright 2017



The slightest touch of frost this morn
takes ‘way my joy, makes me forlorn.
I cannot see the blues of sky,
nor can they tell a man just why

The world burns wild before a storm,
‘fore winter wails, when golds adorn
the whitest birch and fire the maple,
when man lacks the merest staple

Of love; desires, flames deep below
tamped cool by fate and fear and foe.
The frost this morn is but a tear
that our world sheds for all held dear.

And here I stand, adrift and drear,
in midst of colors, lacking cheer.
Perhaps I’ll pray for spring in pain–
when all I love shall rise with rain–
let go of past, and live again.

Let go of past and live again.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



Come walk with me the northbound trail,
And share each challenge it entails,
Yes, seek with me its holy grail;
Let’s sip that chalice, Life!

Let’s leave behind our every strife,
And share what nature holds— hold tight!
Let’s climb each mountain while our might
Remains within our bone.

No man should ever walk alone,
Though each holds sacred, secret song.
With yours I wish to sing along.
Let’s share discovery!

Come walk with me the northbound trail;
Let us ascend or let us fail!
Adventure, take us each footfall,
To hold till earth holds us!

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



Life lies black and white,
Colorless, abandoned,
Weathered, taut and wanton,
Silent, savored sight,
Bland, forgotten question.

First scene comes to mind,
Fiery and emboldened,
Passion’s pitch and probe and
Touch once felt in kind:
Falls so crisp and golden,

Tripped and trodden, blind.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2018



Strength is beauty, as beauty, strength,
Both live in heart to very length,
To breadth and width, and shall remain
Till our tried members feel no pain,
And strength wanes through both wars and will,
Unhappy times, to last until
The best run over that last hill,
When dawn breaks full, ablaze.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



My spirit journeys ‘pon a path
That few have tread and known,
With pain, with pause, with awe, with laugh,
A turn of passing poem,
With nature full in rawest Height,
To chart the great unknown
Which starts with spark and bursts to light
To mark the way to Home.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2019



Nature is potent in yellows and greens,
Reds and oranges and all in-between,
With beauty as mankind has rarely seen,
Sight reminiscent of gods and of gold.

Leaves are briefest wand’rers on spinning top,
They run in a bolt with no time to stop,
Astride their steeds, panting, then tossed to rot,
Bought but for a moment, in time to be sold.

Mountains should tell us all we need to know,
In winter they dream, in springtime they sow,
They tower immense—regal—row by row,
Hide change in their pockets and truth in their folds;

They keep Time in their portals for us far below,
and would tell of Forever, if gods would allow.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



O, Time,
Thine two-edged blade
Both steals
And heals,
A wine
From mind we’ve made…

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2019



We truly do not know the heights
Man’s spirit may attain
Beyond the wants, the will, the rights
We struggle to maintain,

Within a simple, selfless seed
Beyond the fear of night,
That strength which starts as sway of reed
And ends at breathless sight.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2019



Fall’s leaves burn bright.
They light their way
Into the night,
Bursting as a morning sun,
Urging all to stand and run,
Singing song like life begun.

Winds of winter
Break and bite;

Still, leaves are true,
Indeed, they stay
As flame in hue
Till end, to pull all along
Until the season’s ray is gone.
Leaves sing tune that must be sung,

Hold to height, heal us anew
Till they fall, life’s days accrued.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



Those friends most deep within us,
From whom we never part,
Are those who share our very trust,
And always hold our heart,
It’s those who share their merry soul
Through good times and the bad,
Whose half has sealed and made us whole,
Who lift us when we’re sad.
No matter what life brings our way,
A smile or a frown,
The ones we’ve loved and lost shall stay
Within us, worn as crown.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



I stare with fondness from this mound
And ponder land which I have found,
A piece of destiny all ’round
Which I have made my home.

I hold the place where I am free,
A space where I shall always be,
To stand with pride, to bend the knee,
In gratefulness to roam.

Here I shall face each fear again,
And I will walk ‘long fate with friend,
Here I shall bow and make my end,
In final page of Poem.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017


The leaves are dropping early,
A chill is in the air,
I see that winter’s coming,
And all I do is stare.

The geese have skipped the border,
Invading to the south.
They do not have their documents;
I open wide my mouth.

The Bern speaks loud and crazy,
And Beto is no fun;
Revolution could just come,
But I have lost my gun.

And Warren is a-burning,
The lawless have their way,
The courtroom holds no justice,
And criminals hold sway.

Their taxes take ‘way half of us,
There’s Antifa in streets;
I never thought that anarchy
And crime would ever meet.

I am a man of order,
I’ve lived within the law,
But geese have crossed the border,
Soon country will not thaw.

The Left has blamed Forefathers,
The Right has healed no one,
The Revolution’s coming,
But I have lost my gun.

And winter is a-coming,
The leaves fall from the trees,
Yet I have heard no wisdom,
Nor buzzing of the bees.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016, 2019



I love the rise of morning’s mist,
The feel of face on fingertips,
A fall so full–so bright–the bliss
When sun first strokes the eye.

I love the ease of simple things,
The flush of seas that passion brings,
The great unknown of Everything
That beams from stars in sky.

I love the peace that comes with friend
That opens distant heart again,
And hold so close those things that men
Can’t barter for or buy.

We each hold unique Universe
Within our heart, as wealth of purse,
And Life, my friend, could be much worse,
So reach for peaks more high!

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



A little crown of heaven topped the mountain’s crest,
A cloud, a care, a cover, saying all was blessed.
It lost this strand of comfort as its hair was shorn,
To drift across the skies and lesser peaks adorn.
And something of the mountain’s strength was lost that day,
As Samson’s was by beauty as in rest he lay.
So sign was sent from heaven and was cast on stone:
Those strong retain more power when they stand alone.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



Our future’s faint; the fog,
though lifting, mars our course,
as came the world to own remorse.
Beyond man’s mantra lies a bog.

Our future’s faint; the foe
is fearless, built in brine,
and draws me here. I wait for sign,
but will is waning, yet to know.

Our future’s faint; yet love
is worthy, for love’s sake,
to shine, no matter what our fate,
or haze that hangs, or all above.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



The candle that you gave to me
Shall last through all eternity
In window, flame for you to see
And lead you through the pain.

No matter what the clouds may do,
It stays, a gentle guide for you
To seek a shelter from the dew,
The whiteout and the rain.

This candle burns in spite of girth,
Its wick as true as at the first,
To draw you to this humble hearth,
To deepest feelings lain.

In time, all lost things have rebirth,
Regain their luster and their worth,
To be awoken from the earth,
A life, a kiss, a name.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



We drown within the mists of men,
Their bleak demands again, again,
Each day we wonder how and when
Relief shall meet our eyes.

Cares lift from mind on nature’s trail,
Through winsome wag of little tail,
From heartfelt drive into a nail
Of dream we’ve built in sky,

The loyal love of faithful friend,
That glance, in distance, of the end,
In prayer of pity cast and then
The letting loose of why

The God in heavens won’t abate
Our pain, which grows each day we wait,
And seems to linger, rescue late,
Those vapors that we vie.

But mists shall rise with single kiss,
With happy thoughts of those we miss,
From tear and hug, a beam of bliss,
With faith that will not die.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



Remember those who gave their lives
On that September morn,
Remember loved ones who have cried,
With honor all adorn.
Remember when the Towers fell,
And those in uniform,
And to your children ever tell
Their story, and then warn;
Lest we should ever lose our guard,
Forget all that they gave,
And learn again the lesson hard
For memories unsaved.
Remember that our freedom makes
Our nation enemies,
Defend it for our childrens’ sakes,
For freedom is not free.

Eric M. Vogt
September 11, 2016




The world was close to Total War,
And freedom lost for forty years
In East. It was a time of fears
Of missiles’ drop and dead in scores,
Approach of Orwell’s ’84.

We could have walked the college halls,
Yet, loving liberty and land,
We took our place, we raised our hand
Against the Gulags and the Wall
Which irked our ire, we faithful band

Of brothers. We loved each other.
Each was a boy; each was a man.
And only we can understand
That Age, those tales we try to cover,
Prepared to take the Final Stand

As only friends and brothers can.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



Starlit night, pinpoints of power
aloft, arrayed on velvet tower,
to touch the Wisdom that made you,
to light my candle bright anew,
if only for a minute, hour,
to light bright left off endeavors,
if only for some moments few,
would make me strong, would make me true.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2013



Jack holds a braver heart than I
That tops the mountains, draped in skies.
He has no need for hows or whys
Or waters which we store.

He does not plan or map a route,
At home on any hill’s redoubt.
He’s happy just to move about,
And all else but a bore.

Jack knows that where the path begins
Is less important than its ends,
And counts half-mountains as his wins;
His chest contains his core.

His Master, though, gets weary fast,
And trembles at the winter’s blast,
Thinks every mountain may be last,
Believing he is poor,

His heart is halved, without a mate,
And every climb a bit more late…
But Jack cares not the time and date,
Tempts fate at heaven’s door!

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



As far as an approach to end,
There’s one that comes to mind again.
That trail was sheer and steep in pain.
I never thought its woe would wane.

My vision, bland, was blurred by clouds;
I could not give one cry aloud.
I bore it all as person should,
Alone in tense and tragic wood.

I tried my best to rise above
The peak of lifeless end of love;
But, with belief till all collapsed,
It left me shaken in its path.

Faith can be healthy; hope is due
In most beliefs, when strong and true.
Yet there are trails that reach an End,
A mountain’s, lover’s, or a friend’s.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



The raw and windy vistas lay
Stretched out as if by gods that day.
Thick cloud had minded pine and path
Till this resplendent aftermath.

No hurry to go on my way,
I wandered, seeking all that may
Come clear atop this mountain trail.
T’ward ends of earth my heart would sail.

And so it is with years and height,
The mists of love and things that might…

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



A spring-fed brook wears smooth the stone
As sun the earth, when twain in tone,
Like flesh to gown, like ring to bone;
A spring-fed brook wears smooth the stone.

The flush of past sweeps clear the mind,
As war to sense, as coarse to fine,
Like death to life, like end to time;
The flush of past sweeps clear the mind.

A star through mist pierces the heart,
As lips to touch, as shaft to mark,
As thorn to silk, as hail to hark;
A star through mist pierces the heart.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2018



Some live their lives upon a blade
Of hopes not held and dreams unsaid,
And cling to these until their dead,
A sorry state indeed.

But some prefer to live in clouds,
To cheat surrender, heart too proud
To trim the sail, to say aloud
Their life sways as a reed.

Some darkest hours can forget,
The choice they made and now regret,
The love they lost, the sun that set,
All buried like a seed.

We must embrace the clumsy fall,
The coward’s way we shied from call,
Along with time that we stood tall,
Both flower and the weed.

I stand upon the edge of time,
Those trails forsook, those mountains climbed
I must take ownership as mine,
The fullness and the need.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



Lost Citadel reveals an age
When two great Powers struggled, War
Of silent chill. A ghost, like sage,
Walks down forgotten corridors
Of holocausts he’s set to wage–
Mad, he mutters tales of horrors
And histories erased from page–
Still poised to open Doomsday’s doors.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017

The Spirit of Lexington Green


There is a spirit lacking in the world this day,
That rise of call of drums that beat,
That clang of muskets, shuffled feet,
The Spirit of Lexington Green.

There is a spirit lacking in the world this day,
That standing ground which makes a man,
That love for neighbor and for Land,
The Spirit of Lexington Green.

There is a spirit lacking in the world this day-
Just a shame which hesitates–it lost–
That would rush to aid, despite the cost,
The Spirit of Lexington Green.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



The path I tread is etched through time,
A moment’s sketch, a glimpse of mine,
A precious piece where men align
With destiny we seek.

I stand entranced with scent of pine,
With things that bloom and blend and bind
A man to earth, true worth, a sign
That makes some strong, some weak.

This hike is hint of place we find
Between its peace and mist of mind,
A course of care, a rest refined,
Attainment of our Peak.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



The mountain said a prayer for me.
I listened as I could,
between the tread of shuffled feet,
‘midst evil and the good.

The heavens sang a song for me.
I sang, as well I should,
with path as cramped as it was free,
‘Tween cliff face and the wood.

The forest wished a wish for me.
I heard it where I stood,
as if a man could hear a tree,
as if he understood.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2016



There’s nothing clear as mountain stream
That runs full, year-to-year, it seems.
As silence reigns, surrounding all,
Her trickling down through waterfall
Draws men, she wishing to be seen.

Her beauty bears a lofty beam
In times of rushing and in lean.
Men search on high along her course
To learn her depths and seek her source,
And fall in love with sound and sheen.

She oftentimes our forms reflect,
But will not share what we erect
Within the mind and hope and dream,
Though men may love that listless stream,
To drink, desire and protect.

Yet men still yearn and wish her heart,
Though streams through souls may drift apart.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



Our trails diverged, yet not by me,
The choice always with you,
So there’s no way foot can retrace,
My compass sharp and true.

You kept upon another course;
I’ll stick to my own track
Which leads to Summit–till my end–
Bear silence, turn of back,

No matter if each lost a friend,
No matter what we lack.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017



The gods upon their Mount that day
Looked down upon the men of clay.
But man had grown, and felt no need
Of myth or magic’s make-believe.

Hot Ares asked for Zeus to give
Him reign to war, no man to live.
But kind Apollo begged with pleas,
And gave Zeus worship on his knees.

So men were spared, and gods withdrew
To nether-regions to renew.
Apollo left a pile of stones,
Remembrance of days of renown,

Reminder to all who would climb
Of mortals, there would come a time
Heroes again would sail the seas
Like Argonauts and Hercules

To once again the gods appease.

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017

the height


when i stand upon the height
and i mull on mountain’s might,
who is man that he should see
briefest glimpse of destiny
creation carved, he mere
dust—-drawn, drawn, drawn so near
to grasp its breadth, and depth?

Eric M. Vogt
Copyright 2017