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Archive for Poetry about Determination against All Odds

The Doe and the Hunter

Baby mule deer in wildflowers

 PICTURE FROM AWAY.COM

**************************************************************

 

He rose up and

cursed the day

that I was born

because he simply

did not like

me

We contend for

a spot on the

dot placed

on center

stage

Who is she

that she should

be placed over me

he says

he complains

daily and they

listen

he rants daily

and they listen

then they begin to

plot my

demise

my destruction

they seek

and plan their

victory party

over the

doe and

her child

they run quickly

to the river and

lay their trap

for the doe when

she drinks her

water

So I entered into

the lair of

my haters and

knowingly began

to drink

from the river until

I hear a

SNAP!

AND A THUD!

When you dig

a ditch

you better

dig two

for in setting a

trap

you may find

yourself

the  victim of

your own crime

and  plot

the doe jumps

from fear

and runs off

back to the safety

of  the forest

while the hunter

lays at the

bottom of

his well laid

pit–realizing

that he forgot

to look where he

was walking

in his glee

over his trap

and soon prey

subdued and

destroyed

The doe runs

back to her fawn

and then continues on

until

another hunter

lays another

trap

on another

God Given

day!

—riveroflifelisajoy

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SAND GRAINS ON FLAT GROUND by Riveroflifelisajoy

 

The sun beats down

I can smell the sweat on 

my scalp and hair, the water trickles

down my back and I feel

like tearing my skin right off

Boils begin to fill with

clear fluid

as I look toward the

horizon my feet

tingle and burn

while I place one

foot in

front of the

other.  The back

of these cheap

sneakers is

rubbing against my

already

blistered ankles

but I must go toward

the tiny speck in the

distance.  It looks

like a bunch of trees and possibly

a resting place

So each step more painful

than the other.

I hope I find some of my

friends there

Sipping  Green Tea on

ice, and waving me

to continue to finsh my journey

home.

The grains of  sand on this

barren flat land are being

whipped up into dust and it

clouds my minds eye. 

I cannot look beyond the

obvious…yet the obvious is

too harsh to cope with.

“Come to us bid the tiny dots

in the distance.”  You just sit

right there and wait for me…

I keep repeating this to myself

as my feet start to bleed.

My big toe feels like a splinter is stuck

deep inside.

Why did I wear these deck shoes

anyway? 

I decide to keep

a weather eye on the horizon….

 

Fini

 

riveoflifelisajoy