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By bwoz
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10 January 2008 |
Pilot Butte is a large granite mesa that sits atop White Mountain in southwest Wyoming, outside of Rock Springs. It is called Pilot Butte because it is identified on flight charts so aircraft don't fly into it. It visible for miles and is known for the wild horse herd that live there. If you google "Pilot Butte" you will find photos of what inspired this poem.
We drove up Fourteen Mile,
my old man at the wheel,
then across White Mountain
on fifteen miles of dirt.
We drove along in silence,
not a word between us,
all the way to Pilot Butte.
My burden as much as his,
the silence. Not much to say
between a 15 year old smart ass
and a farther barely able to
straddle the chasm of disappointment
at his son’s squandered priorities.
Near the Butte the old man
pointed out my side window
"Do you see them?"
A herd of mavericks,
moving like a phantom wave
across the Wyoming plains
in whatever direction their
Spanish blood stirred them;
the sage brush and alkali
their redemption.
The dust of our travels
hung in the air like steam for as
far as we could see, looking back.
A red-tail hawk’s shadow flashed
across the road before us
as we flew, silently, hill over hill.|
hi Written by maipenrai (784 comments posted) 10th January 2008 | an excellent write with good visuals. Bernie | Written by Josie (2844 comments posted) 10th January 2008 | | This is interesting, but I really can't recognize it as poetry as it seems like an interesting piece of prose just divided into short lines. Why did you think of it as poetry as against a good piece of prose? Even unrhymed poems need something to distinguish them from poetry - perhaps some structure. Enjoyed the read though. | thanks, I think Written by bwoz (125 comments posted) 10th January 2008 | Bernie, Josie, thanks for reading and commenting. Josie, you could be right. It could be prose, I suppose, if not for the size of my great big ears....I mean nose. I think it contains enough deliberate rhythm, a bit of alliteration at the ends of S1 and S2 (dirt…Butte). I guess if the alliteration element is not repeated throughout then maybe it doesn’t qualify as poetry. My basic intent is to reveal two aspects of silence; at first it is uncomfortable – dad and son not willing talk to each other – not willing to risk argument. In the end the silence is a different element. Not a silence between dad and son but a silence of flight, of the entire environment through which they travel. I will agree it is very near straight prose, but if one definition of “prose” is “writing distinguished from poetry by its greater variety of rhythm and its closer resemblance to the patterns of everyday speech” (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prose) then I think this is far enough from that to be poetry. At least I would not speak in this manner if I was telling this event to someone. I sure appreciate your opinion, and glad you like it regardless if it is poetry or prose. BW
| Hi Bwoz Written by fellpony (1700 comments posted) 10th January 2008 | | This one was visually very clear, but didn't grip me quite as your other offerings have done. Perhaps fourteen and fifteen being so close in stanza 1 upset my mental eye ... also (just a question; technicality of language, USA vs English) you mentioned the wild horses in the intro: do you use the term maverick for horses? I thought maverick was a cattle term, a motherless calf. If you meant mustang, that I would understand. If you meant cattle, no problem. I'm just confused by that one word. | Maverick herd Written by bwoz (125 comments posted) 10th January 2008 | Thanks FellPony This can use some work, I'm sure. By "maverick" I mean "independent in behavior or thought" as on dictionary definition states. One example given is "maverick politician". Originally I wrote it as "maverick herd" instead of "herd of mavericks". I think the former is better and will re-write it that way. ythjamnen s |
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