Litkicks Message Board Archive

Tanya in the Tercel (Critique Appreciated)

Posted to Action Poetry




Following the tracks of ideological forefathers
It is wintertime and the path— snowed under
My feet enveloped by the cold sting of prior footsteps
And the unforgiving wind bit with its piranha teeth at my face
And I wonder —what am I going thru all this bother?
This whole journey suddenly seems so wrong —a blunder
Why must there be such a burden —a gauntlet into depths
And why exactly now? Is this trek some sort of race
—
My feet lumber on, minus mental control —my mind has surrendered
Capitulated to the physical weariness, the horrible torture
Yet the legs carry on, the traditional roles —reversed
In the winter wasteland, all was cold and harsh and staunch
My hot breath refused even to warm the blue lips as it knew it would fail
Im to blame of course, I jumped in late in the game —old age hinders
My mind long ago forgotten why I continue, my legs tho tread on, savouring a new culture
The people had begun to disunite and disperse
What terrible early days seemed bright as these began to crunch
So my poor yet wise legs limber on, strictly following the trail
—
Out from the frozen marshes of the Wild Wood
Came a tremendous, expanse field of the pure milk white
And thru bleakness of windy snow I peeked out from my protecting hood
O, wait! what resembled a hallucinatory at first...but no, a true sight
In the knee height snow and thru her blinding sister wind
A protruding pink tulip distantly sat and at me grinned
I then knew the task I must pursue — ... I will continue