Here the traffic is miles wide
and four lanes deep
while traffic hums and
slowly creeps,
connecting homes to highways.
Here new roads are constructed,
and asphalt roads rolled out,
above steel rods hold
the skeleton of a bridge.
Diggers churn over ancient dirt
discovering a man
quiet and skeletal,
fragile and peat,
fingers sharp as little arrows
and thin curled toes.
His skull shaped like the moon.
And it's here we pour cement where
he once gathered food,
where he once collected wood.
Travelling with no roads
or maps as guides
only the stars.
3 comments:
I thought I owned the stars... LOL!
There are certainly some nice bits in here. My favorite, it will come as no surprise, is this:
"His skull shaped like the moon."
I also like the idea of the traffic being miles wide, though I can't say exactly why but then you follow with "four lanes deep" and that of course contradicts the first line by placing a limitation. I say it must be one or the other unless I'm missing something...
Also no surprise, my eye fell on the "imperfect" rhyme on deep and creeps...well, I see you changing the second line and that will take care of that. ;)
Of course, others have written similar poems on this topic which is one reason my instinct is to tell you to follow the fellow with the moon shaped skull.
I hope there's something useful in this. I'm glad you're really back, my friend. Cheers!
This is a long one Tiger.
I like the twist in this… I first took it rather lightly with the play on the traffic being miles wide and four lanes deep rather than miles deep and four lanes wide. Then the whole piece seems to do a 180 as it focuses on the ancient remains and their connection to the stars/moon. Very well done.
The second to last stanza is very nice with the description of the man… nice job.
The whole piece flowed well and sounds nice when I read it out loud.
The only other thing that caught my eye was those commas at the end of some of the lines. I frequently want to put them there but usually don’t as I’m not sure if they are needed (?)
Thanks for posting.
Here's another attempt:
The sky darkened,
and the stars gathered
as we sifted through dirt and fragments,
carefully uncovering a man
quiet and skeletal,
fragile and peat,
fingers sharp as little arrows,
and thin curled toes.
With a skull shaped like the moon.
We knelt, picking our minds
for information
wondering who this man was
and where he hunted food.
Travelling with no roads
or maps as guides
only the stars.
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