The Grieving Trees

[Hawkman]

The air is flattened,
there is no depth of field
in the early morning mist,
when that first, golden touch of sun
backlights the deer on the woodland’s edge.
He projects his shadow through the haze,
a three dimensional extrusion, alive
with every nuance of his mood,
while his haloed coat steams gently
and his breath condenses,
chilled as if by prescience of doom.

He sniffs the air but tastes no threat,
the stalker is down wind
and watches through a scope;
nemesis a mere breath away,
his target separated from the hunter’s eye
by but a blink and the thickness of a lens.

Time slows, as a tender finger
lovingly strokes metal,
a sweet caress to unleash death,
which strikes the quarry in the neck
and smashes flesh and bone.

Paralysed, he drops to the echo of the shot
and startled birds take wing in their alarm,
while on his side, the deer lies,
and kicks just once.

Emerging from his hide,
the stalker walks to take his place
beside his kill. He kneels and strokes
the dewy, matted coat but has a care,
makes sure that he evades the stare of dying eyes.
Then he takes compassion’s knife
to end that strife beneath the grieving trees,
who weep their few remaining leaves,
which settle in that pool of life bled out.

[hillwalker]

I'm glad I get to be first to read this. It's a masterpiece.

Only when I reached the end did I realise I'd been holding my breath right the way through.

A work of art, Hawk.

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Paralysed, he drops to the echo of the shot
and startled birds take wing in their alarm,


is a moment of especially high drama in this vividly felt and narrated account.

[AuntShecky]

Quite a provocative word picture. Its point of view, centering on the deer, tiptoes near anthropomorphism
but happily pulls back enough so that the tone does not become overly sentimental or maudlin.

The word choice, particularly the verbs, is appropriate. I especially admire the conceit of the trees "weeping" leaves.

My only constructive criticism is that the last stanza--"strophe" --could use some tightening, but overall, I'd say this is a remarkable piece. Thank you for posting it.

[Maryd.]

This one is amazing Hawkman... Like Hillwalker, I had to take a big breath at the end. Excellent work sir.

[hack]

It is beautiful Hawk. It takes me back to the Chiricahua Mountains
and my youth. There was a time that it put meat on the family table.
I don't have the heart (or the need) for it anymore. Sometimes I
miss it though, God help me...peace...

[Hawkman]

I'm glad I get to be first to read this. It's a masterpiece.

Only when I reached the end did I realise I'd been holding my breath right the way through.

A work of art, Hawk.

H

Thanks hill, although when you first read it there was an ambiguity, a certain clumsiness of expression in the second strophe which I spotted and easily tweaked into more pleasing coherence. I also feel that I could (or should) cut 'slowly' (and/or replace it with, 'gently') in l2 of s3. That you were able to be moved by the poem, regardless of it's minor imperfections is extremely gratifying, so thanks again for your kind words.



Paralysed, he drops to the echo of the shot
and startled birds take wing in their alarm,


is a moment of especially high drama in this vividly felt and narrated account.

Thanks Prince. Stalking is dramatic, so if you feel the drama of it then I guess I made a reasonable job of conveying it :)


Quite a provocative word picture. Its point of view, centering on the deer, tiptoes near anthropomorphism
but happily pulls back enough so that the tone does not become overly sentimental or maudlin.

The word choice, particularly the verbs, is appropriate. I especially admire the conceit of the trees "weeping" leaves.

My only constructive criticism is that the last stanza--"strophe" --could use some tightening, but overall, I'd say this is a remarkable piece. Thank you for posting it.

Hi Auntie, I'm not sure why you detect a hint of anthropomorphism in the piece. At no point do I imbue the deer with human emotion. It is purely a word picture of his appearance and demise. Emotion is hinted at, but only on the part of the hunter who is reluctant to look into the deer's dying stare, and who might be seen to exhibit some empthy for the life he has taken.

As I mentioned to hill, there is potentially room for a tweak in S3 but I can't see that there is much wrong with the last strophe. The only thing that might be appropriate would be to change the order of the last three words to:

"...bled out life." which would allow an end rhyme with knife in l6 but I'm not sure that I want to.

Nevertheless, I'm grateful that you stopped by to read it and grace the thread with your observations. Also that you found it remakable :)

Mary, thanks for stopping by to read and comment on the ppoem. I'm glad it touched you.

hack, I'm always pleased when you stop by to make a comment on my work. I understand completely your ambiguous feelings towards hunting. Perhaps though, if you were to venture into the woods with a camera and watch through the viewfinder, rather than a scope, you might enjoy the thrill of the hunt without the confliction of the kill. You'd still have something to take home. Trouble is, venison just tastes so good...

Thankyou all for troubling to read and post a comment. Live long and prosper. H

[AuntShecky]

To clarify this:

I'm not sure why you detect a hint of anthropomorphism in the piece. At no point do I imbue the deer with human emotion.

I said that the speaker tiptoed close to it, but didn't succumb. I didn't detect emotion that was specifically
human, other than fear, which all creatures in the animal
kingdom share. Here is the passage in which I detected the "hint":

alive
with every nuance of his mood,


Although the current state of zoological research makes new discoveries about the inner workings of the brains of other species, they haven't yet declared that animals, who mostly live by instinct, really have demonstrated that they have what we have come to think of as a "mind." But the phrase in the poem seems to endow the deer with a full range of subtle or "nuanced" emotions, usually assumed to be in some --but apparently not all!-- human beings.

That image is shortly followed by this phrase, that the condensed air has been chilled

by prescience of doom.

With this one, as well as with the deer, the personification isn't exactly a pathetic fallacy*, but I did detect a hint of anthropomorphism in both.


Re: the suggested "tightening" in the final strophe. Here's the passage in question:

He kneels and strokes
the dewy, matted coat but has a care,
makes sure that he evades the stare of dying eyes.
Then he takes compassion’s knife
to end that strife beneath the grieving trees.

Kneeling, he strokes or He strokes to kneel.

has care, makes sure Choose one or the other, as both together are redundant. Okay?

As I said before, the poem in its entirety is a success.

And if you'll allow me a little self-indulgence. I am so very proud that Auntie's two thousandth LitNet post consists of a reply to Hawkman!

*"The Pathetic Fallacy":
http://www.ourcivilisation.com/smartboard/shop/ruskinj/