Route 39
by Juliet Waldron
Monday, October 19, 2009
Rated "G" by the Author.
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A mere twenty years can make a lot of changes, this one imho not for the better. |
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Early morning
Biking north
Only sounds birds
Occasional chain to gear
Click, panting uphill
Human power.
Fog, lifting soon,
A hazy golden ball seen
Through a silver shroud.
Deer drift, a hazel herd
Does conducting fawns
Across the road
Don't give us a
Second glance.
Not a car in sight,
Only bikes, deer, hill,
Crowned with
September's corn.
~~~~~~
Five stoplights now,
Internal combustion
Stink and noise,
Asphalt & chain stores, streets
Named for absent natives,
“Meadowlark,” "Doe Lane"
& “Goldfinch” Drive.
Townhouses cluster,
Grim gray sides,
Modern shanties
With vacant pool
& tennis court,
Nothing real.
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| Reviewed by Patricia Martin |
11/2/2009 |
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Ah, yes. Wonderful Pennsylvania. If it's green, either pave it or build on it or both. Usually both. Only to stand empty, black windows gazing out at ... nothing.
You GO, girl.
Zilla |
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| Reviewed by Regis Auffray |
10/30/2009 |
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As an avid cyclist, your verses are close to my heart, Juliet. Well done! Love and best wishes,
Regis |
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| Reviewed by Gene Williamson |
10/28/2009 |
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As I ride along with you, Juliet, through these
painful and carefully crafted lines, I am reminded again
that all too often our "realities" survive in recollection.
I am reminded too to John Cheever's brilliant short story,
The Swimmer. -gene
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| Reviewed by D Johnson |
10/20/2009 |
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All in the name of progress, or so they say.
Cheers,
Dan |
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| Reviewed by Felix Perry |
10/20/2009 |
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Thanks for the tour, lovely capture of both the good and the bad...
fee |
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| Reviewed by Lori Moore |
10/19/2009 |
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| Wonderful poetry... but sad. Enjoyed. |
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| Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner |
10/19/2009 |
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POW - right between the eyes with truth, Juliet. Well done. Sad, isn't it?
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. |
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| Reviewed by miles waldron (Reader) |
10/19/2009 |
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| Remember that movie "Breaking Away?" |
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| Reviewed by John Flanagan |
10/19/2009 |
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Juliet,
Not a car in sight,
Only bikes, deer, hill,
Crowned with
September's corn.
...one of the great images I've had the pleasure to see today;
the second part of the poem tells of grim changes, loss of habitat, loss of the natural, loss of life itself.
A very fine poem indeed. Thank you!
John
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