WHAT IF.......

If I'd never fished I'd not have seen
ducks flaring to a beaver pond
with heads and sometimes wings of green.
I'd wave my hand and they'd respond
by landing much farther away.

I once saw a fish eat a snake there,
a sudden splash and it was gone.
With now passed brother I would share
stumbling on logs just after dawn
while watching beavers slap and spray.

Rising mists on mirrored pond or lake,
the heft of fresh caught evening meal,
finding streams for finding's sake,
learning how the bullfrogs feel
when wade fishing on a summer's day.

If I'd never hunted deer and such
the forests would not feel like home
and they'd not feel my tread so much
as I walk through the leaf and loam
finding where the wild things stay.

December dawns of heavy frost
would melt away mostly unseen
for I'd be dreaming as if lost
staring at television's screen
while winter winds set limbs to sway.

The haunting snort of startled deer
would, by me, have gone unheard,
and seeing one up close and near
would never, ever have occurred
had my path gone another way.

How could I tell of streams and trees
without ever having walked in them
or watched frost lift from a hard freeze
as bobcats stalked intent and grim
in search of unsuspecting prey?

And had I never met my wife,
one summer eve so long ago,
how could I describe contented life
with a love which doesn't cease to grow
through long years as youth went its way?

About This Poem

Style/Type: Structured: Western

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: South Carolina, United States, USA

Favorite Poets: Frost

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Comments

Stan

A beaut of a write as always.
In your usual form it is there with the best.
Take care of you and my bestest thoughts to you both,
Know that your love together is precious.
Yours as always, Ian.T

Hi Ian

I'd just got to thinking about how things would be different had I not been exposed to the out doors. Heck I might be writing (((shudder))) Political poetry lol....stan

Stan

luckily politics have never atracted my thoughts too much.
It would be such a waste to dwell on something we could only vaguely change every 4 or 5 years.
I have walked with many people on many paths, in all theatres of this life I have been pleasured to lead.
We as writers can write of anything it is the reader that dictates whether the read was ok, or brilliant.
Even then the writer can still write no matter what, we reach a point on our own pathway where we may need others to read of the things we say, still better to walk in grace, than the muddle of politics.
I think I used a few, what I call soft swear words the other day in a poem and became very expressive, some were taken aback that I could feel so, so this only shows how much of my works they have read, Digit and his kills to a head in the trenches of WW1, then to walk with the think in a realm of unconditional love,
where I am most times.
What do we write I ask, this structured verse and multi themed writes, where is the me in all this muddle lol.
Sometimes I think it would be better if we found our place and purified the themes and writes of them.
I have always thought that I am a seeker, of truth, or of a funny story, or a murderous killer
Never could specialise and I think my teeth will say it is too late,
Thanks young Stan, you walk where the think takes you, I will wander those hills and valley's one day and maybe call your name.
Yours as always Ian.T