Familiar Melody
burlap or hair shirt scratches the skin bread and butter
gutted and skinned the unforgiven riding his pony
hidden canyons a holy silence as if the rider was the first
returning home face covered singing songs
like cowboys in the old west melody familiar voice resounds
echoes against red rocks sits upright in the saddle speaks not a word
this is not unusual a boy leaves home much later...
returns to his roots ragged and worn a boy no more
still...not quite a man challenges met a few gray strands
in his light brown hair singing new songs new rhythms
a ferocity in his eyes he has seen much the world is not always kind
the path rugged he sits on the stool by the front door
a poet now writing his own songs a familiar melody
February 12, 2017
11 comments:
The inclusion of sensory stuff---like the burlap scratching the skin, the echoes against red rocks and the grey strands that have added to his hair over the years....makes this such an easy scene to picture.
This is like a magic tale... like a manhood ritual.. love that it's the birth of a poet.
This poem, like his life, goes full circle!
I don't quite know why, but I love this section:
"bread and butter
gutted and skinned
the unforgiven
riding his pony"
I really enjoyed what was (for me) an unusual form. I found it very organic and synergistic with the content. The piece is very well drawn (it actually reminded me, a bit, of my brother ... and here, I thought he was a one-of ~ha~) And the close is WONDER-FULL!
This is quite beautiful and would I guess be full of poignant familiarity of what could have been.
a few gray strands, ferocity in the eyes, the path rugged, & an unkind world are elements needed to enrich a life...no wonder the life bursts forth in songs, so original...
Your poem brings to mind that song: "I spoke not a word ..." with the cowboy going to his grave rather than dishonor the woman in the long black veil. Yours remains alive, but deepened, silenced, reflective. How else can one be after facing the violence we do to each other?
Lovely share!
This is soo tender so beautifully written.
"hidden canyons a holy silence as if the rider was the first" beautiful, and I have felt that sensation when being out in nature
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