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Dead Beat
by Kristina Woodhill
Flickers returned last week of September,
barely enough time for bugs of all seasons
to tunnel deep, get their scurry on,
pitch the last frass out the side decoy door.
Single, shrill call rings autumn's door bell,
gliding tucked-wing approach signals two-claw hanging perch.
Every
fence post pretending iron fittings
tree trunk posing as the Bwindi impenetrable forest
branch pointing slyly at its neighbor
crack wildly veining detours in some old warped board
knows this seasonal drill.
A single knock seems like a guest with a gift,
understated, respectful;
a double knock, repeated, and again,
announces this year's bill has come due.
Tentative poke
provokes
deeper probes,
soft spots
speak
loud admissions.
Drums are waiting,
drummer has a long pointed beak.
Headbangers need not apply;
this is the hard stuff,
not hair in the air.
A hole is a hole is a hole -
Alice falling for some rabbit,
one eye into another,
a circle of life ending for some slow munching grub,
a neat door in a hard knock world.
Spring's rhythm of the rain
replaced by autumn's dry drumming,
and the beat goes on.
10/02/2011 Author's Note: With a nod to Sonny and Cher - The Beat Goes On.
Posted on 10/02/2011
Copyright © 2025 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 10/03/11 at 02:16 AM I like this...now I can't get that song out of my head either. :) |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 10/03/11 at 04:37 AM Drums keep pounding a rhythm in my brain..now look what you've done, Kristina..:) |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 10/03/11 at 08:27 PM Loved the ending- very surreal- great write...and the beat goes on...For some reason; i keep picturing Grace Slick( Go ask Alice...she'll know for sure....) |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/13/11 at 12:27 AM A most refreshing look at seasonal change. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 11/20/11 at 01:58 PM How to condense imagery without rendering it prodigal -- a feast to celebrate Seasonal Affective Delight... |
| Posted by Lori Blair on 11/24/11 at 03:27 PM I don't know how you do it..you write about nature as if YOU are nature and I can't even catch my breath reading your world because I simply want to exist within! Brilliant! |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/04/11 at 01:23 AM A very subtle disjointed darkness here, that works well in expressing a similar mind; illuminating in the process. Putting it to Sonny and Cher's "The Beat Goes On" is pure genius, reminds me of a club in Edmonton, back in 2007, in which I read one of my poems accompanied by a four piece rock band that improvised music as I read it. |
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