I was just reading the great CBC Poet blog and I thought it would be a cool idea to try my own hand at writing some poetry about the Log Driver's Waltz. So here it goes...
"Expectations"
The crispness
feet hanging like embers on the wet
a cusp of a horizon
broken open by speed
a twirl and a waltz left open
on some maiden's lips
a pool about her feet like her parent's expectations
"Plaid"
The shirt riddle slick with old mustache hairs
mean old mister mustache
no pixels for a mouth
just whir of the old zoetrope propped in the corner
citizens of the dead
the frost coming in but kept out by the bars
that cross and line in formation among my tattered collar
I wear it logging on the rivers
I wear it riding the century old phantoms that are broken
like embers with the slightest of shrugs
The voices of the men saying duck and hold
as the log keeps spinning
the log keeps living
the river thick with sap
thick with our gliding macabre
-------------------
I know they suck. What do you think?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment