Poetry
Related: About this forumThe Dragon
Too quiet is the man
with something to hide
on a cold northern highway
thumbing a ride
Journey, today
for his haven and hearth
grief on his face
sorrow in his heart
Into this frozen Earth
his destiny is sown
beneath concrete roofs
and walls of stone
asphalt floors, his feet convey
the luxury of his winter chalet
along this vast
American
Appian way
20 below, trying to get warm
cars slide by
a Christmastime storm
some flipped him the bird
others honked their horns
passing him by
glaring their scorn
the travelers had lost their fresh faces
there was too much violence
in too many places
4000 miles
very little sleep
when he comes to the crest
he cannot help but weep
His hometown has been damned
the mountainsides logged
the pinnacles rammed
the erosion, the machines
the scars remain
barren and abandoned
they pray for the rain
into the teeth of the Dragon
his future is crammed
The Dragon puffs smoke
the particles flying
offensive odors
there's no denying
A gushing flow of honey
from paycheck to paycheck
the sweet smell of money
to others
the rotten stench of the dying
The Dragon, the trucks, the men
sporting green
ecology colors
deceptively mean
The poison act quickly
that of an asp
Dragon fangs embedded
he's caught in the grasp
Which washes his superior feeling
he's just like those others
who've been sent reeling
for freedom they long
for air
they gasp
Cavallo
(348 posts)Thanks, I enjoyed it.
"the travelers had lost their fresh faces
there was too much violence
in too many places"
"A gushing flow of honey
from paycheck to paycheck
the sweet smell of money
to others
the rotten stench of the dying
"
Just so matter of factly and poignant. I love it!
nilesobek
(1,423 posts)Thank you for the kind critique.
I wrote this one in 1990, this is an abridged version. I ran away from home when I was 14 and this is part of an expression of my experience.
angstlessk
(11,862 posts)I can feel the cold, and experience the disdain people had for that young hitchhiker...thanks
nilesobek
(1,423 posts)I didn't know at the time that I couldn't run from myself and my abusive home. Everywhere I went, I had to take me with me. There was no escape. I remember hitchiking across Kansas, then turning around at the border and thumbing my way back, then doing it all over again. I was lost and alone except for the cold and the stars. Never caring what day or time it was. But I had to see NY and many other places and find out about the real world, and forget the world I came from. So, this untrained amateur poet does it for therapy.
angstlessk
(11,862 posts)Your only choice at that age was to run away FROM...now that you understand so very much more than you did back then, maybe you can run to you, for the love and understanding you missed as a child?