Thursday, December 16, 2010

JD State Park, 2010

A coney lolls under cooling shadow of aluminum bins,
sniffs the humid wind blown through treeless hillocks
ignoring the loop of shell roads shorn of saplings thin
as when sight adheres past scrub pines and simple forks

to a swampy place where gators wait in carnal silence
and feral pigs bristle brown under fronds in rustling rut.
If always a pond in the sand it's a masked green suspense
while the river still swirls with tawny fishes schooled but

in the temporal buoyance of trolling on mirrored peace
the glass is broken with sudden rolls to a grassy shore.
A man yells Quebecois into a pay phone at river's beach
but the concessions stand will tender hickory as before,

so rest tonight, eyes heavenly as the cypher face of Orion
creeps from east to west in his glacial chase of setting suns.

23 comments:

  1. I think this is my favorite of your sonnets, especially the gators and pigs.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gators wait in carnal silence, tawny fishes and the man yelling in the pay phone. Love.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Yes, that was really nice, Gerry. Thanks for it. Amusingly enough, out here on the opposite coast, I got a ride yesterday from a French-Canadian guy whose truck had transported a just-slaughtered pig the day before - the silence in there was not just carnal but phenomenally rich. Actually, there was no silence - Mario talks and his truck has no functional exhaust system. Thanks for the poem!
    PG

    ReplyDelete
  4. @JZK: Thanks. I have no idea why this sonnet thing started and no idea when it will end.

    @Tess (nee willow): :-). the boars were almost beige.

    @Old 333: Cheers, friend. It's all connected. Your comment is the poem and vice versa. Ha!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Gerry,
    I enjoyed reading this wonderful poem.
    A fine feeling of being at peace and close to nature.
    I loved the rolling words..
    All good wishes to you, Wendy and Otis.
    Eileen

    ReplyDelete
  6. "and feral pigs bristle brown under fronds in rustling rut"--my favorite among many fine lines composing this poem. I wonder what my brother-in-law would say? (He's vice-honcho of a fifteen-member gang of feral pig hunters!)

    ReplyDelete
  7. @Eileen: Thanks dear. Rolling is the right read.

    @vazambam: cheers. I wonder. I didn't actually get to see a feral pig, so I had to imagine them. Just as well. Anything smart with sharp tusks is probably better left alone.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Love 'carnal silence' and 'feral pigs.'
    "...mirrored peace" is also nice.

    ReplyDelete
  9. @Kass: Thx for the read. I appreciate that you found something to enjoy.

    ReplyDelete
  10. fun one, love chasing setting suns..
    well done poetry.

    ReplyDelete
  11. @Antonionioni: Yes sir Mr. Master Sonneter. I have a ways to go to reach your status. But a man's reach and all that..

    @Jingle. Thx for the read.

    ReplyDelete
  12. lush and evocative, loved the fine finish!

    ReplyDelete
  13. how wonderful how all these ingredients fit together and make up quite the feast for the senses... i love how you make the quiet and then shatter it.... damn fine stuff here, you.

    ReplyDelete
  14. @Harlequin: thanks hon. glad you enjoyed this.

    ReplyDelete
  15. "to a swampy place where gators wait in carnal silence/and feral pigs bristle brown under fronds in rustling rut." Wow, love these lines.

    Good poem.

    Happy holidays, wayfarer.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Hola,

    I just wanted to wish you a safe and peaceful Christmas...^^

    Feliz Navidad!!! Dios nos bendiga a todos!!!^^

    ~Kelvin

    ReplyDelete
  17. @Jenny: Thanks. Southern US swamp photos coming soon! Skoal!

    @WINDOWLAD: Cheers. Some back to you.

    ReplyDelete
  18. I'm discovering your 'sonnet thing' by walking backwards, and I love it! LOL

    ReplyDelete
  19. @Jinky: You should check out

    http://antonionionisnewonions.blogspot.com

    a fellow Brit who posts an original sonnet everyday!

    ReplyDelete

Yes?