Another revamp of an old poem. Eliminated about three stanzas and added some rhymes.
Death in the Long Grass
After Emily Dickinson
My father’s favorite book –
hardback edition –
the crisp pages a sandy sort of color.
The green perched stems of grass rise on the cover
and subtly morph into roasted, yellow death.
A lion – steady,
just off center – is hidden by the stems.
This is a little deposit of short poems. Most of these are completely cut down versions of older poems. I find this editing style works nicely for me.
Someone lives near the edge –
(a man who runs about the clouds)
leaps off the ledge in graceful bounds.
Death is the cold room
where shades are drawn
Updated 07-15-2012 at 04:21 PM by Squalid Glass
A few years ago I posted the original few drafts of this poem. Now I have edited it a ton and am wondering how it sounds. I decided to take the original form and add rhymes to it. I don't know if abbaab is a form, so if anyone knows, let me know! Thoughts are welcome, thanks!
(After Yannis Ritsos)
Because the line of Chevy’s smoking Marlboros in the cold street.
Because of snow angles flapping in
Updated 07-15-2012 at 03:23 PM by Squalid Glass