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Click hereThere's seven miles of good road to the east,
seven bad to the west, and bears.
Southbound there's seven times seven,
fractured roadbeds through limestone hills,
running t'ward the flatlands from whisky stills
like cracks in shattered ice.
Nothing to the north save a river, not very deep,
safe enough when the weathers dry, no eye
for the highway of the pioneers, canoe's are cheap
plenty of room for jugs between the seats.
Float on down when the moon is full and high,
pockets dry as the sky, cloudless
I'd take the west road. Those damn bears wouldn't stand in my way. Or I'd get them too drunk to come after me. I'd be a bearshiner, instead of moonshiner.
...I have no idea what I'm talking about. 5ed.
And magnetron posted I slapped my hand straight into my forehead and shook it!!! 5ed
Paddling and handling jugs ........... all this canoed'ling is making me thirsty.
Here is a a fiver to line your empty pocket.
PS: I hit 4 meaning to hit 5. Arthritic fingers this morning, if ratings mean anything to you.
Very nice, Harry. You have a colloquial style I admire. The more a poem sounds like something someone would say and still be a poem is high praise. This work does it.
I'm a secret member of the grammar police like UYS and butters, so you'll get no pity from me for the catatrosphic apostrophes.
Clever title for starters! Very good description as even I can see it in my minds eye! I like the bears too :) but you must learn where to put your apostrophes!
now i know where you're coming from with this, with prior information, but putting that aside (though the title tells us where to start) here are my impressions:
agree with the comments re sound-links and imagery. for me, you place me smack in the middle of a compass, or p.o.v of the narrator - you show me what's in each direction as i turn, like a compass being turned in a circle -love the reps of sevens. the bears *smiles* - works for me as the dangers out there, but since this is related to whiskey stills, well then the flashing lights of lurking lawmen. :)
the second half is . . . well, it floats, an almost noiseless canoe on a placid, moon-lit river, runnin' contraband whiskey to earn a few dollars to make ends meet. there's contrast between the fractured roadbeds, their rough passage, and the slide of the river journey; contrast between the limestone hills and the flatlands; contrast between the richness of scenery and the scarcity of money. for me, this piece is about existing smart or going under. this ain't goin' under, it's floatin' on down the river, smooth on whiskey.
p.s that should be weather's, and canoes :)
and sounds you utilize in just about every poem you write, I am a little lost as to what is going on in this
like this, esp." pockets dry as the sky," "seven bad to the west, and bears."
bears- a small missed opportunity
Float on down
can be read two ways, one of which hangs, as what floats on down, a small missed opportunity