Anonymous
Anonymous asked in Arts & HumanitiesPoetry · 1 decade ago

Have you ever dreamed of a prose poem and you couldn't even get the names right?

He ran sideways for the last few feet

hitting an old maple stump on his way down.

The gouge in his left arm was serious

but what lay ahead was much more threatening.

His voice cracked slightly

as he called out again for the dog.

Three more shots rang out,

but they were way off their mark

and he may have lost them momentarily.

“Prentice, damnit” he breathed.

Another one gone.”

There was more than 10 inches of snow on the ground now.

His faded dockers weren’t much help

in the slush covered path he had made for himself

but the alternative was worse.

Why hadn’t he worn some socks?

Preparation escaped him

when he needed it most; socks,

gloves. A gun, perhaps.

As he lay on his side beneath a fallen pine

he heard panting and the unmistakable whine

of what may be his last hope.

He turned his head skyward

blood soaking his shoulders.

As he drew his knife from it's sheath, Prentice

limped toward him from the right

a trickle where his back left leg had been.

He dropped the knife in an instant

and gathered the old lab quickly, dropping

him softly down under the pine.

The dog had managed to find him

despite his obvious state of shock.

The bullet had hit him

just below the first joint of the leg

cutting cleanly through the bone

leaving about 8 inches dangling

fighting for a clot.

How could he have made it this far?

He quickly flipped

through the last hour of pages in his mind

figuring that at least that hour had passed

since he was separated from the dog.

Had he found his way to this spot

by accident?

In complete shock and imminent danger

of losing consciousness, he doubted

the lab’s instincts were that deft

making his presence here under the pine

a stroke of luck. Or,.... Realization

came washing in like waves.

As he reached for the knife

he had dropped moments earlier

a grizzled voice spoke from beneath

the forest canopy.

“Over here, Jason.

Prentice! A very good dog, indeed!”

“His leg. Where is it.”

“Are you going to teach us how to sew, Jason?

Shall I have one of my men scour the forest floor for it?

Do you think you can save it, eh?” his eyes flickered

with each question.

“You may have killed him" he snarled, carefully keeping

his attention focused

on where he might have dropped the knife.

“If you wanted suffering, you’re too late.

It looks like he’s about gone. Too bad.”

“Oh, there will be plenty of that.

The human kind of suffrage

is so much more definite, isn’t it?

Does a dog really suffer

for his sins, Jason?”

flickering, inquiring eyes wanted to know.

“You shall. You shall, and will, and need

to suffer, boy. Get up.

The day is growing old.”

Update:

~~~~DPM~~~~

12 Answers

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  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago
    Best Answer

    I have a dream...an entire book of dialog poems...

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    Okay this succcks. Not your poem. This. As in today. I was

    goo goo ling "types" of poetry to see if there was anything other than bad Senryu's I could possibly attempt. Prose I could understand. Methods I could cut. I landed on "dialogue". I was motivated. Convinced. In fact I spent 24 minutes after dinner tonight thinking about which words I could start with. Something like "Once Upon". Now I'm blocked. Stumped. Cut off in the block. Thanks for everything, Elwood.

  • Held my attention riveted from the first word to the last,

    not an easy task...

    Animal instinct is alive and well, Dogs are somewhat better friends than people are or ever will be, sometimes.

    I relished your tale.. I want more.

  • 1 decade ago

    Superb display of prose. Excellent story telling. I'm sorry about your dog. Are you ok too. My reality has just been suspended. Is there gonna be a part 2 to this? Go back to sleep! Dream again!

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  • 1 decade ago

    To be honest I have read a few pieces you have written and I liked all of them. This one is no exception. When I first came upon it I figured it wouldn't hold my attention, but boy was I wrong. Very original.

    Edit: A thumb's down for giving someone honest encouragement. Alrighty. This guy below me is not good.

  • 1 decade ago

    Your light shines through the darkness like the Full Moon.

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    Prentice's instincts WERE that deft, it's true

    the old lab knew just where to find you.

    "Jason" whose name you chose not to get right

    a marksman in fatal blows.

    I'm sorry, Buk.

    ma

  • 1 decade ago

    Buk, that's a short story waiting to happen.

    Excellent.

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    Wow, very deep and insightful. I loved it dear boy as usual. LOL

  • kiki
    Lv 5
    1 decade ago

    I'm not going to pretend that I read that!...I don't even know why I'm answering!

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