Foxhunt

[DieterM]

With fright in my pocket and holes in my socks,
I jump over ravines and dead leaves and rocks,
through menacing shadows I slip like a fox,
up and fast

The wet, rotting ground slipping under my feet
shows muddy dark puddles wherever I tread,
from hollow paths echo my steps of defeat
while I run

The egg-white of birch trees glows in the rain's sigh,
nude branches scrape over my arm and my thigh,
a buttery moon howling up in the sky,
run, rush, cry

The foes in my back send their hounds after me,
I sense their hot panting, their barks, their cruel glee,
pale, coffee black mists swirl around an old tree
like a shroud

My freedom offensive, heretic my speech,
they hate me because I'm beyond their cold reach,
they want to suck out my free thoughts, like a leech,
but they can't

Thus I stumble on in this forest of night,
hear shouting -- smell anger -- continue my flight,
I know they might catch me, still I hold on tight
to my life

And when I fall down -- too exhausted to rise --
the stench of their dogs tearing salt from my eyes --
the breath of their hatred -- their joy -- their loud cries
coming close --

I smile for my thoughts will continue to strive,
my body surrenders, yet my mind survives,
I know when I feel the dogs' teeth, sharp as knives:
I am mine…

[deryk]

The pace of the rhythm and rhyming schemes really accentuates the urgency of the chase. The desperation is cruel and the rebuke at the end is more fatalism than assurance.

[Hawkman]

Hi Dieter, I quite enjoyed this. The metre drives it well, although it stumbles a bit in a couple of places, but it's a vivid scene you paint in words. I can't help wondering if the penultimate line should read: "I know when I felt the dogs' teeth, sharp as knives:" though.

Best, H

[DieterM]

Thanks to both of you for reading and commenting. Once again, a song made me invent these lines ("I Am Mine" by Pearl Jam) and try to stick to the special, waltzy rhythm.
And of course, there was a typo in the penultimate line that I didn't see (because my mind simply substituted the typo with the right word); "fell" has now been corrected to "feel".

[blank|verse]

I think this is excellent, Dieter; it's great to read a poem that utilises metre effectively (loose anapaestic tetrameter, I think; although 'special waltzy rhythm' sounds good, too!). The subject reminds me of the death of Actaeon from Ovid's 'Metamorphoses'.

Ok, there are some bumps – I wouldn't suggest flattening out all the 'mistakes' because you would lose a sense of immediacy, but some of them do slow the pace (the first line of stanza 3, for example). And I have to say I didn't really understand the last line 'I am mine', even after you'd explained its source!

I wonder if the first image could be more visceral and bodily, like this later line:

the stench of their dogs tearing salt from my eyes
Saying fright is in the narrator's 'pocket' makes him sound in control of it, like it's his mobile / cell phone that he can take out and use when he chooses; perhaps something like 'fright in my bloodstream' would be more appropriate?

And I enjoyed this image to describe the dogs:

pale, coffee black mists swirl around an old treethe problem is I enjoyed it so much, I stopped to read it again! Never mind. Good stuff.