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Open Poetry #33
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The Jackal
Member
since 1999-08-13
Posts 426
Springfield, Massachusetts U.S.A

0 posted 2004-09-09 09:41 PM



The old deer approaches the river
He is fearful and apprehensive of the stream
Long ago he has withered
his eyes turning an absent grey
His mind is always on the verge of awakening
but the forest is closing in around him
The night is coming

Thoughts of another time cascade around him
As he searches for a place to rest his open mind
Once he was nimble and youth was intoxicating
A drink from the purest source
He could freely escape the forest and the night

All of that has passed
and his eyes open to reveal the morning
He aches and yet remains proud
His eyes and mind fixated on passing clouds
Soon it will be time to find another temporary home
The rain will come and wash away all thats spent
Flushing all the tin cans and broken cigarettes
down the stream
Towards an empty outlet
Somewhere near his dim recollections
Where perhaps a hunter waits
asleep in a deep dream
    Of a grey eyed deer
  watching passing clouds...

New lovers are nervous and tender, but smash everything. For the heart is an organ of fire

© Copyright 2004 John Dixon - All Rights Reserved
Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505
Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA
1 posted 2004-09-09 10:48 PM


Being a non-hunter myself, I find this to be a very powerful write. Interesting to see something written that takes into account the view of the prey. One living creature simply wants to survive and the other finds pleasure in the kill...which one is the true animal?

It's a talented piece...enjoyed.

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
2 posted 2004-09-10 07:27 AM


Indeed, putting one's self behind the eyes of another, be it human, or beast...is a wonderful way to get a new perspective.  I ditto 'Deer...it is a very good write!
Pilgrimage
Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945
Texas, USA
3 posted 2004-09-10 10:54 AM


This makes me feel for the animal portrayed, and all of us who grow old and tired.

Nan (Pilgrim variety)

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