A Trail of Bodies

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Billy
Posts: 952
Joined: 22 Jun 2006, 10:56

A Trail of Bodies

#1 Post by Billy » 27 Apr 2013, 03:27

A Trail of Bodies

I've always wondered if she survived.
It was dark. Thirty miles from town.
Maybe a rancher or two lived out there.

My brother and I had brought our rifles
to the mountains, hiking, half-heartedly
shooting at a coyote or antelope, chasing

the sounds of elk sharpening their antlers
against trees, never seeing one. We got
to the paved road not long after sunset.

There was no moon. The old Jeep's over-
sized tires thumped the pavement, caused
the cab to vibrate. The headlights poked

into the blackness, discovering the now
visible aerial world outside. From force
of impact, nylon insects sounded like two

pound creatures splattering the windshield.
Carroll and I sunk into the well-worn bucket
seats, exhausted, lulled by the drone of tires.

I saw her dark, startled eyes, big ears, black
nose, both of us moving so fast, the thud
on my side instantaneous with her image,

then the sound of the road and nothing else.
We stopped within fifty feet or so, examined
the damage: a broken mirror and the side

glass cracked. Arms dangling at our sides, we
stared into the scrub. A tumbleweed rolled
slowly past. The doe dazed, looking for her

family, hopefully, or dying in the juniper bushes.
Still, to this day, her bones crying in the wind,
lost in time, everyone I've ever left behind.

Michael (MV)
Posts: 1620
Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57

Re: A Trail of Bodies

#2 Post by Michael (MV) » 02 May 2013, 18:49

Hi Billy,

Although I don't have time to workshop,
(and I haven't b/c I really haven't seen anything immediate as of yet to suggest,
perhaps some fine fine tuning yet)
I have read this poem several times since you have posted it. I was impressed from the start.

Would you please consider letting

A Trail of Bodies

represent for the Block in this IBPC

Please, asap, accept or decline here:

viewtopic.php?f=3&t=5633

Thanks Billy

:)

Michael (MV)

 
 
 

FrankDyer
Posts: 227
Joined: 17 May 2011, 06:28

Re: A Trail of Bodies

#3 Post by FrankDyer » 13 May 2013, 16:08

I'm sorry I did not read this poem before, it was posted almost a month ago, but I've been away for a while and so it's my loss. I htought, before I had even seen it, one of Billy's short poems, but I was wrong. You knew I would think that anyway didn't you. I love stroy telling and this poem tells a story and well. It's a pity we don't critique each other's work more often. I ham so glad it was recommended to go foreward by Michael.



I've always wondered if she survived. [mystery, at first I thought a woman]
It was dark. Thirty miles from town.
Maybe a rancher or two lived out there.

My brother and I had brought our rifles
to the mountains, hiking, half-heartedly
shooting at a coyote or antelope, chasing

the sounds of elk sharpening their antlers
against trees, never seeing one. We got
to the paved road not long after sunset.

There was no moon. The old Jeep's over- [would: 'a moonless night' imrpove anyting here?]
sized tires thumped the pavement, caused [oversize is overly descriptive, we get your drift]
the cab to vibrate. The headlights poked

into the blackness, discovering the now
visible aerial world outside. From force
of impact, nylon insects sounded like two

pound creatures splattering the windshield. [I thought at first you meant 'pond cretaures' [I think you could leave out 2 pound and just say 'splattered the windscreen]

Carroll and I sunk into the well-worn bucket [Carrol is a guy?]
seats, exhausted, lulled by the drone of tires.

I saw her dark, startled eyes, big ears, black
nose, both of us moving so fast, the thud
on my side instantaneous with her image,

then the sound of the road and nothing else.
We stopped within fifty feet or so, examined
the damage: a broken mirror and the side

glass cracked. Arms dangling at our sides, we [leave out any rference to arms?]
stared into the scrub. A tumbleweed rolled [wonderuflly evocative a tumbleweed rolled past details we remeber from a shocked state]
slowly past. The doe dazed, looking for her

family, hopefully, or dying in the juniper bushes.
Still, to this day, her bones crying in the wind,
lost in time, everyone I've ever left behind.

Sometime you speak in the past tesne and at otehrs the present continuous, you may wish to examine that. I think you could minimilise it a little and work it into its final form. Very well done.

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