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Click hereI have vacated the city madness of too many
people swarming like ants in a mad panic
to gather sustenance for another day
neither caring or aware of their impact
on those around them, crawling over others
helter skelter, elbows to eyeballs, ravaging
ripping gnawing, sucking the life's blood
of those less fortunate to feast, rest
then begin anew. I have returned to the comfort
of leafy boughs brushing my brow, stirred
by soft breezes whispering through forests
the only crunch that of dropped branches
beneath my feet as I traverse the hillsides
to songbird's serenades in search of laughing
brooks and flying fish, silver sailing
in sunlight lacing the quiet calm
illuminating greens, yellows and reds
texturing the calm carpet of these mountains
this is my food, my breath, my being
here is my sanity, never to be lost again
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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My only concern here is with the frenetic pace of the words throughout. It's like the frantic pace of city life moves with the reader out into the country; the words say calming, soothing, but their pace says, go, go go...
I enjoyed your poem, it was filled with images that had me reading it twice <grin
I'm sure there is some trimming to do, but this is well-written and worthy of comment - and would have more, I'm sure, if it were not buried so deep down the page.
Peace, brother, in the hills.