Guadalupe

[The Huntsman]

River of Black Stones
~ Guadalupe ~​

Evening fiddles in these cracked old hands
and my knuckles - with the wind - begin to moan.
Starlight shuttles seven shovels through the sand -
the rum-thrust iron rings, squalling on a stone.

The five-mile memory of music to the east
falls dark with the year’s first snow;
and Juan Matíz, on the back of a beast,
shudders in his skin as up we go.

A juniper tree: I should have known -
where roots have kept coyote from his bride.
Thank Mary and las brujas back at home
for the name of Juan Matíz, our mule-bound guide.

Cedar-boughs smoke below October’s butchered skies,
with the kindle of mesquite and kerosene;
my desert sons still wonder where she lies -
not sensing what our sudden halting means.

Seven men are gathered, and yet I dig alone.
- Matíz greens and cringes from the axe -
O Lupita, O Lupita! a bag of pelvic bone…
My heart, in my hatchet-hand, cracks.
__________________________________________

Hello friends and readers!
This represents another of my more recent poems.
Here we have a father's justice for a daughter
wronged.

I'd greatly appreciate comments and constructive criticism.
None of my poems are above revision.
Thank you all,


The Huntsman

 

[twelveoone]

one question, why the so slight off rhyme?
S1
L1 hands
L3 sand

S3
L1 known
L3 home (close, so close)

then on to
s4
L2 kerosene
L4 means.

I like the "fiddles, knuckles, shuttles" on the third syllable (assume Evening is two) for the first three lines. "squalling" seems to act as a release for the tension build up by those three words.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

River of Black Stones
~ Guadalupe ~​

Evening fiddles in these cracked old hands
and my knuckles - with the wind - begin to moan.
Starlight shuttles seven shovels through the sand -
the rum-thrust iron rings, squalling on a stone.

The five-mile memory of music to the east
falls dark with the year’s first snow;
and Juan Matíz, on the back of a beast,
shudders in his skin as up we go.

A juniper tree: I should have known -
where roots have kept coyote from his bride.
Thank Mary and las brujas back at home
for the name of Juan Matíz, our mule-bound guide.

Cedar-boughs smoke below October’s butchered skies,
with the kindle of mesquite and kerosene;
my desert sons still wonder where she lies -
not sensing what our sudden halting means.

Seven men are gathered, and yet I dig alone.
- Matíz greens and cringes from the axe -
O Lupita, O Lupita! a bag of pelvic bone…
My heart, in my hatchet-hand, cracks.
__________________________________________

Hello friends and readers!
This represents another of my more recent poems.
Here we have a father's justice for a daughter
wronged.

I'd greatly appreciate comments and constructive criticism.
None of my poems are above revision.
Thank you all,


The Huntsman

I have been a fan of the Guadalupe river for a very long time ...
the poem? I am unsure of its direction or literary picture, but I do like the river <grin

 

[champagne1982]

I have been a fan of the Guadalupe river for a very long time ...
the poem? I am unsure of its direction or literary picture, but I do like the river <grin

Well, MET, I think Juan's in line for a lynching, or something because of his sins upon the poor Lupita.

I enjoyed this dark story of vengeance and the near rhymes, in my view, are better than forced rhymes any time. Thank you, The Huntsman, for posting this here.

 

[twelveoone]

Well, MET, I think Juan's in line for a lynching, or something because of his sins upon the poor Lupita.

I enjoyed this dark story of vengeance and the near rhymes, in my view, are better than forced rhymes any time. Thank you, The Huntsman, for posting this here.

I did too, I was just wondering about the why.

 

[The Huntsman]

Near rhyme

Greetings!

Thank you for your comments and questions!

The near-rhyming suited this piece better, I think,
than a traditional or strict rhyme-scheme.

Mostly, I was going for the sonics and the musical
lilt, which allowed me to sacrifice the exact rhyme.

This poem was definately inspired by my recent
reading of Bless Me Ultima, although I penned
the first lines while driving and listening to Middle
Eastern music on the local college radio station.

Thanks again,

The Huntsman