The Stag

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In dried-out marsh where footsteps lie,
Tracing steps and feet before,
Broken fence and ragged wire,
Brook and grass and harmony.

A field across the orange blaze,
Faithful cracks, surrendered branch,
Dimly grained and bowed in green,
Earth and hooves, informal dance.

A gallop halts in open air,
Squared, and chest apparent,
Perfect as my counted steps,
Alone he stands in distant stare.

A moment still I hold my breath,
Fixed and strong, he's caught my track,
Hazel backed and scars to bare,
Solemn in a fragile glow.

Content in wayward solitude,
He does not trust my path,
Dark brown eyes and pointed pride,
Yearning for the evergreen.

In greying tips he stands his ground,
Loyal to the days gone by,
Speckled spots of brown and black,
A primal thud of cloven foot.

Stooped and still I hold his gaze,
Eagle-eyed he grants me time,
He listens fair with velvet edge,
And sees my flaws through dusty light.

A broken twig- he's on his way-
Prancing through the deadened leaves,
Muscled buck and arrow flow,
Fluent as the river ebb.

My lens will capture sight and time,
But feeling, sounds and moments shared,
Something I would rather keep,
In mind and memory before I sleep.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

Maggie2014 said...
Feb. 25, 2012 at 10:27 pm

This is amazing.

I love it. I could read it a hundred more tiems and get something different out of it each time.

The only thing i would say is that in an effort to keep the rhythym and syllables steady thoguthout your poem you left out words that could have added to the poem...does that make sense?

Otherwise great job!

 
Conorzzy replied...
Feb. 25, 2012 at 10:29 pm
Yes I know what you mean, to a certain degree it's intentional though. I prefer not to have it blatantly directional, while still giving description. Thanks for the feedback.
 
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