Northern Woodlands Poet-in-Residence, Percy deMutt, recently surveyed our readers for inspiration for a series of short poems. Behold, his fine works:
Inspired by: Oliver, age 12
Oliver, age 12
admires Vermont’s Dog River.
“Cat river?” Hard no.
Inspired by: Pike Messenger
In the salt marshes of Massachusetts Bay,
one can find extensive patches of Spartina patens – salt hay
It was once used for animal fodder and bedding.
I’d rather eat rocks and attend a flea’s wedding.
Inspired by: Sharon Plumb
Shall I compare thee to a summit picnic in autumn?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate
If by temperate one means, denoting a region or climate characterized by mild temperatures.
If that doesn’t make a lot of sense, I apologize, but I’m doing my best here. Poetically comparing a person to a season is a lot to expect of a dog, and I’m not even getting treats for compensation. It’s impressive enough that I use words such as “denoting” and write blank verse. What I do know is that I would enjoy a mountain summit picnic with you, Sharon Plumb, especially if you carry me up the steep parts (my legs are short), because in addition to possessing a keen eye for appealing details along the way such as bearberries and lichen, you specifically mentioned food. My true love, you had me at “snacks of cheese.”
Inspired by: Eileen
The dog comes
on little dog feet
It sits looking
Over limestone bluff cedar-pine forests
On silent haunches
And then moves on
Before that hungry looking red-tailed hawk can get any ideas.
Inspired by: Michael T. Quinn
Michael T. Quinn says he likes dogbane leaf beetles
Dog bane Michael?
I prefer Quinnbane leaf beetles.
Inspired by: Kellyanne Wolfe
At the margins where forest and farmland meet
The birds chirp and the air smells sweet.
Some people dismiss my work as doggerel
But I’m a dog so I think it’s swell.
Oh look! A trumpet chanterelle.
Inspired by: Pat Liddle
“Ecotone (try rhyming that, Percy.)”
Mercy.
Inspired by: Joe
A fellow named Joe likes to wander
Along Maine lakeshores and ponder
The beauty of loons
But they’re migrating soon
To float on the Atlantic, out yonder