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Open Poetry #37
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Kathy
Member
since 2006-02-10
Posts 153


0 posted 2006-02-21 11:06 PM


On Arnold Ridge,  the headlights hold
the shadows to their trenches.
And stab the bolder whispers,
as they scramble from the fences.

They might tell you that year laden ashes,
hound-tracked and smooth,
can't forget the hillside kettles.
They might tell you that dead camps still recall:
carbide lights, corn liquor and coming of age
near the sound of guns and fiddles.

Once born,
few secrets are new!

But, if, like tonight, they follow you down;
down into the half-hidden hollow of the hunter's homestead,
you might hear
the music of corn-shocked nights
chasing blue-ticked hounds far into the years.

Once born,
new secrets are few!

© Copyright 2006 Kathy Jenkins - All Rights Reserved
The Lady
Member Rara Avis
since 2005-12-26
Posts 7634
The Southwest
1 posted 2006-02-21 11:36 PM




"the music of corn-shocked nights
chasing blue-ticked hounds far into the years."

Ummmm... so well written Kathy. I like your style.


Midnitesun
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Empyrean
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647
Gaia
2 posted 2006-02-21 11:42 PM


a refreshing read, Kathy
and I'm enjoying the few/new thought train
and am hearing fiddles in the background
alongside braying hounds

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