Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

SMELLING SASSAFRAS (another attempt at poetic prose)

Straight from work the other evening,
I went to decompress
in a patch of summer woods
along a dim game trail I knew.

Upon exiting my old truck,
rapidly down the path I struck
so fast the world passed in a blur
as feet moved at an urban pace.
Way too fast
to see
anything.

But going up hill I soon slowed
as old legs quickly faded.
This slowed down the passing land.
Revealing how the late sun played
upon the duff through swaying limbs
which whispered "juusssst beee....."

No longer crashing noisily,
I began to hear some crows
and catch glimpses of distant squirrels
as well as deer flags as they departed.
Spooked by my visit.

At last I topped the little ridge
and started down the other side
where a flock of turkeys flushed
due to my foot falls still too rushed.

For whatever reason there may be
downhill paths are rough on my bad knee.
So I slowed to a near shuffle
headed toward a spring below
which rang with peepers' song.

And now my progress slowed enough
to allow time to notice a half moon
rising in still day lit sky
in which horse tail clouds scudded
through the deepening blue.
Soon a whiff of sassafras
and muscadines came on the breeze
just as i got to the spring
from which I cupped my hands and drank.
And beside which I sat to rest.

Being still, even more was revealed.
In mere minutes the forest forgot
it had a visitor
and went back to what it had been doing.

A tiny rustle at my feet
as a black beetle explored the leaves.
Then scratching claws as squirrels ran
up and down a nearby oak
with a bit of romance in mind.

I noticed that the rocks all about
were mainly weathered quartz.
White as weathered bones and scattered
like moth balls.

Hearing a soft blatt, I turned my gaze
toward down the spring-fed hollow
in time to see a summer brown doe
whose spotted fawn mewed as it followed
down to get a drink.

Then a chitter sounded forth
from within a hollow tree
as raccoons scolded me, I guess
or something which I didn't see.

Soon some doves flew overhead
on their way to their night roost
as the forest fully accepted me.

In the woods or in the city
don't hurry through your life too fast.
Take the time to see the beauty
which harried folks just walk on past.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
The change from hurried poetic prose to slower rhyming verse was intentional to mimic the appearance of beauty as protagonist slowed down.............stan
Editing stage: 

Comments

Loved that ending to your poem story or free verse story. I would like to work at this but now I can not. Are you taking suggestions to it? I had a vision of you as a tear formed in my eyes.

The splash of water on your face and the beetle that grazed by you. Good visions on your trip Charlie Stan Brown

Blessings to you friend
Mona

I thought you knew I am always open to suggestions and especially when I venture into unfamiliar forms. When trying poetic verse I feel like that little beetle lol.........stan

author comment
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.