Caren Krutsinger Poet Free verse

Chopping Or Shooting

Chopping wood sounds like shots - gunshots.
If they are done right, and these are.
Chop. Chop.Chop.  Shot. Shot. Shot.
I am outside, writing in the sun.
My hands are startlingly warm.
A sense of well-being surrounds me.
A pink aura has me in her grasp.
The wood chopping sound gets my attention  for a second.
Chop. Chop. Chop.
I look up at a weird angle and there is a rainbow reflection in my glasses.
The sound has stopped.
I thank God that it is not gunshots. It is only wood chops.
I hear them during hunting season here, and I guess every two weeks or so at school.
I do not want to get used to them.
It is bad enough that my students have.
They no longer look up.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

M. L. Kiser November 5, 2018 at 11:25 AM That's sad that school children have to hear that. Some it will no doubt, scar; others will be firing guns in the future. It's terrifying if you've never heard that before and you're on a country road and hear gun shots; I've been there and wondered who would be shooting at me? Caren Krutsinger November 5, 2018 at 2:22 PM I hear them a lot and I always hold my breath for a second. Some of those high-powered rifle bullets can travel for miles.

Rhona Mcferran October 30, 2018 at 5:25 PM I grew up with those sounds (chopping wood and gunshots), but I can never get used to the latter... nerve-wracking! Caren Krutsinger October 31, 2018 at 12:11 AM They are both rather jarring.

Michelle Faulkner October 30, 2018 at 12:43 PM So starkly true, so disheartening we have lost some of the pleasure of nature because of this new reality- Caren Krutsinger October 31, 2018 at 12:11 AM It is so true, Michelle.