A song drifts gently through the midnight wood
overtop the swaying trees.
Its fingered mist creeps down to beckon me
with soft, repeated, backward curl.
It sounds of hunger, thirst, and steadfast love
for that tender rabbit prey--
entangled in a far, distracting brush
to become another's feast.
It sounds of yearning. And for accompaniment,
ten thousand cicadas, stringed,
bow of that beautiful creature, fair;
and there he lies, his eyes concealed with leaves.
It sounds to me to run, be filled, and sing.
I groan, but stay. And still it calls
to me, upon my bed of fallen pine--
in the kind hunter's clawed trap.
Author notes
ten
In a list
A contest entry
- Feeling Love In Pearl To Cry...PIF...2500 points by kaibab.
2500 points, ended September 30, 2007, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - you dont know who I am! (Favourites Only) by Ryno.
1000 points, ended January 18, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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excellent
wow!this is masterful.Ten thousand ciccades, stringed
Yes I can hear them they are a symphony now I will haer them when I see your name.
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There she lays, and captured fur to stir in pelting
melting skin in silvered concsience,
to feathered trust of Nature's banishment
a steel is teeth to tether wild things...
thanks so much for your entry
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Wonderfully written. I am struck with the irony of the last stanza/line. What incredibly vivid and moody imagery you lay down in your first stanza. I saw it - ghostly and eireely playing in the cinema of my mind. Those phantom fog fingers beckoning in slow repetition.
There is an incredible amount of emotional content communicated in your imagery as well. The metaphor speaks so well of longing and hunger. The reveal at the end is makes the circumstance of the fox so much more dire and saddening as you have focused up to that point on the calling to be free. Nice to finally see the piece from whence came the moniker. Such a very well written piece. Poignant and gripping.
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the last line is vivid..
...such a beautiful poem with a vivid image. I love the way your song permeates and repeats its whispers in a rhytmic image. I can hear the music in the words, seeming so content, until the last verse.
I first hesitated at the word 'groan' wondering what was to come, until I was smashed by the last word and the paradox of 'kind hunter's'.
Well done.
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Thank you so much for your beautiful comment. I'm so happy to hear that the paradox at the end was as impacting as I had hoped it would be, for it is the crux of the longing in the rest of the stanzas. Sometimes when you write, you're not sure if it comes across to others. Thanks so much for taking time to let me know.
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This brought me up sharp...I hate snares or traps almost as much as I hate poachers/hunters. Sometimes think I would like to put their legs in a metal monster, and let them hear their bones crack. Sorry, this was a most beautiful poem that tore at my heart. Bravo
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