Under the creaking bough of the frozen birch
flows a slow river, spotted with flecks of ice
bobbing up and under the otherwise placid surface.
Each snowflake that falls upon the little burgs
slips, imperceptibly, into the cool wash
of the river's dark and sluggish water.
Perhaps their is a small boy on the far bank.
Perhaps he carries a stick in one hand.
And he hits
each
icicle
with a great sweep of his tiny arm.
Out here in the quiet woods
he is unquestioned. And so he hits,
each icicle falling with an explosion
he can repeat until the sun sets.
It's not destruction, exactly,
it's just the most enjoyable way
to clean a tree of its icicles.
And why do that?
Under the creaking bough of the frozen birch
there is a boy who doesn't need reason,
he only needs a stick, the quiet, and a frozen tree.
And the river keeps flowing,
slowly erasing its record of the boy
and the shattered silences of winter.
In a list
A contest entry
- Photo Inspired by lie.
300 points, ended February 10, 2008, 4 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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And the river keeps flowing,
slowly erasing its record of the boy
and the shattered silences of winter
Wonderful imagery.
Mylee -
Best poem out of the contest, and there were some parts of the piece that really stood out to me.
I think the story seems too strained and it seemed as if you were trying to hold the readers hand throughout the entire poem [sometimes it's better just to let the reader use their imagination].
Things were repeated, but the story was consistent. Considering you used the photo as inspiration, I find it boring that you found it necessary to put the exact photo into words. Anyone could have given a description of the picture.
Good piece, thanks for entering. -
this is really good thanks for the comment and i will take the I'm into account
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yes i liked the concept of the boy that didnt need a reason...why should he ...and some nice imagery......Im Australian....we have to hunt for snow here, theres not much of it about. And its expensive.
Cheers
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Under the creaking bough of the frozen birch
there is a boy who doesn't need reason,
he only needs a stick, the quiet, and a frozen tree.
pretty much my childhood. this is cool.
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Vividly painted with a tender feeling of reminiscing and one wonders if it is about the writer's past when a young boy as the imagery and emotions are well intertwined.
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