March 23, 2009

Nothing (ever) Ventured

nothing (ever) ventured

Teddy Gulloo and Cynthia Lee
climbed to the top of the Vulture Tree
and shaded thier eyes so they could see
all the way to the Gator Sea.

The road below was thick with dust,
the desert beyond a broken crust
all dotted with cars that turned to rust,
half buried in sand from the summer's gust.

Beyond the desert a chasm loomed
from which great coughs of hot steam plumed
but inside all light was consumed
and all who entered it were doomed.

And farther still, the Gator shore
above which they could see gulls soar
and even hear the ocean's roar
and slaps of each boat's tiny oar.

Said Teddy, "We must travel there,
to breathe the salty ocean air
and feel the see breeze in our hair...
get out of this dead, dry nowhere."

But Cindy sighed and sadly said,
"Dear Teddy, you must use your head.
The sun will burn our skin beet red,
and if we go we'll end up dead."

For he saw just the destination
and ignored the desolation
while she perceived their ruination,
predicting only devastation.

Together, they climbed slowly down
and walked in silence back to town
along the road of sickly brown
and went inside just at sundown.

4 comments:

writtenwyrdd said...

I really do love these sorts of poems you do.

Aniket said...

Beautiful verse. It has a sweet rhythm attached to it, that takes you with the flow. Loved it.

JaneyV said...

Oh goody! I love your poems!

I have to say - I'd want to go to the sea too but I'd hatch a plan and go prepared!

pjd said...

WW, thank you. That means a lot. I actually sat down to write a very different poem, but that one stalled and this one popped up.

Aniket, thank you! I tend to pick meters that are familiar and simple, not necessarily on purpose but because they have a nice childlike feeling.

Janey, I love that you love my poems. But you can't hatch a plan and go prepared. That would ruin the allegorical nature of the story. (One of the reason I like this type of poem is that plot holes are rarely disallowed.)