Poetry

From time to time, I attempt to write poetry. I enjoy it, and should engage in it more frequently, but I lack discipline. Hopefully, the discipline of blogging will force me to tease words from my fingertips...to the keyboard...and onto the blank page before me.

Please excuse the lack of titles. Once I coax a poem out, I'm reluctant to put a "label" on it. I feel that one of the beauties of poetry is that it can be interpreted differently by each reader. Having said that, I would welcome suggestions for titles to these poems. It might help me to see what feelings (if any) these little words evoke. Thanks.

Here are a few about my dad.

Poem One

My father hunts deer
Leaning against oak
In a seat of snow

An icy Winchester
Frozen to fingers
A splash of red plaid

Wintry waiting
For an errant rustling
A chance encounter

At woods edge
The buck emerges
All steam and fur

Startled and wary
Four eyes lock
In an ancient dance

Pungency
Of life, of death
Swirls in frost

A blur of brown
Swallowed by green
Once again

The buck
chose
first


Poem Two

"There he is"
He sees him, whispers,
Motionless

My eyes strain,
Follow his gaze,
To see, as he

A brown blur
In tangled gray vines
This buck

Six pointed,
Solid, silent,
Unseen

But by him