02-27-2015, 01:17 PM
(02-23-2015, 05:00 AM)Magnum Wrote: Watching crows eat roadkill in Montana, my rifle slung across my shoulder,This poem is missing alot of potic stuffs. Like other comments said, the verses seem more like a story, or i thought, more like a song than anything else. Also, alot of the rhymes seem forced, and there seems to be no syllabic symmetry, or meter or anything governing the poem. The verses also seem far too long in generla, and the poem itself seems too long. Maybe try cutting loose alot of the extra words you have, like you have done with the last two lines.
early morning workers sweating, cursing, as they break apart a boulder
Ice cream truck stops by the roadside, driver shouting “come and get it”,
A lumbering moose the only taker, the angry driver shouts “forget it”.
The river overflows into the valley’s golden corn fields
The farmers lay large sand bags, they fear to loose their yields
Crop duster circles as the crows fly in pursuit
of falling butterflies and ladybugs who perched upon the fruit.
The poison claimed their short lived lives today
bees flee, birds panic, all escaping from the spray
The bobcat spies the moose, in all it’s forest glory
pouncing on its back it sinks its teeth, I cannot watch, too gory.
Thunder in the valley, rain falls ‘cross the land
a forest dweller begs for help, he needs a helping hand
“My daughter ran away without a word into the city,
I only ask for where to search, I do not ask for pity”.
"Dear man what can I say, I’m just a hunter, not raised in Hollywood,
where only bad girls find their way there", the old man understood
He slowly disappears beyond the trees, and softly moans,
The crows have finished with the roadkill and only left the bones.
And me, I think I’ll patch my jeans, and jump into the water
and climb into my pickup truck, go searching for his daughter
I hold a picture I was given, as he walked into the woods
I must admit she is a beauty, and has the proper goods
To drive this man to find her, before she disappears,
into the crowded city streets, that drive young girls to tears
The beauty of Montana, the forest and the farms,
will call me back I pray, with his daughter in my arms

