Saturday, April 04, 2015

Slogging Through Woods on a Slushy Morning

Whose woods these are I have no clue
They're not on any map I knew
I might be found by Act of God
Or hunt of wolves before I'm through.

The snowmobiles must think it odd
To see that human boot has trod
Into the frozen stream and bog
A guide's mistake and woodsman's fraud.

I stumble cursing in the fog
And splay across a fallen log
The only other sound's the scream
Of weakened tree and rabid dog

The woods are vile, an evil dream
The miles are leaden, long they seem
With no clear way to cross the stream
With no clear way to cross the stream.


james said...

I like it. Writing from frequent experience?

Assistant Village Idiot said...

During yesterday's slog the line "Whose woods these are I do not know" occurred to me when the trail abruptly ended, and I pressed on, knowing - that is, hoping - that another trail I had twice walked crossed my way just ahead. It did, but the terrain was bad and I began to imagine what errors I might be making and what might result. Because I have made errors before, so yes prior experience came into it somewhat.

I had about a third of it written by the time I got home, and finished it up later in the day.

Texan99 said...

It reminds me of "Take the rosebush from my hair...."

Anonymous said...

Love it. Is there another verse coming about sipping scotch?

RichardJohnson said...

We best parody that which we love. I never liked Blazing Saddles all that much- probably because I was never a fan of Westerns.

If only for his depictions of rural NE, which give me vivid reminders of the landscape of my rural NE childhood, Robert Frost is one of the few poets I have read outside of assigned readings.

RichardJohnson said...

Speaking of parodies of poems, I am reminded of the old Mad Magazine parody of Joyce Kilmer's "Trees."

I think I shall never hear
A poem as lovely as beer
The foamy stuff I drink all day
Until my memory fades away
Fools are made by poets, I hear
But only Schlitz can make a beer

RichardJohnson said...

A correction on the ending:

"Poems are made by fools, I hear
But only Schlitz can make a beer."