I was nine the day I dropped my bike
in the driveway, the wheels
as I ran to feed my pet
only to find father chopping
the heads off all the roosters—
including the Bantam.
“But why?” I’d asked.
He turned his back in answer.
At supper that evening the Bird
held center-stage on my plate
seasoned and sizzling
basted in a rich sauce
offered as a fine feast
to the boy who was so diligent
with its care.
29 Feb 08
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here you have served up a fine feast with a side dish of angst and child hood hemorrhaging - you write with an eye to wit and wisdom run's through it - a touch of laughos and pathos - we all see through the eyes of the dead
Nice and simple clear imagery.
I'm not at a level to improve this poem. A nice little piece I am adding to my favorites.
good work, but L15 is too direct
I have also written of this very familiar childhood experience.
only mine was rabbits.
i have a small pick with the first stanza only that you have given away so much so soon. i'd rather if you snuck the dead upon me later.
it seems the line formation is interrupting flow and gives a run-on feel. perhaps L4 could begin "as I ran" instead of "and ran".
this was delightful to read though.
Thank you all for your helpful comments.
poetbill: I understand what you mean about l 15--I'll try working on it.
jenakajoffer: I'll consider your suggestion, but I think if the reader pauses at the end of l 3 there should be no problem. I tried to let the line breaks work as punctuation.
another fine... super fine piece of americana by PaulS, his writings reveal a heart for the country we live in , each worth looking at, this is worth it as a piece for those who have never been exposed to PaulS and his pieces, the toast is to Pauls , may his pen never rest... j. g. smiles
goeszon, I am flattered by your glowing comment. thank you :)