Lost In the Wilderness
Drum's tight skin beats through perilous night
Hunter to be hunted under sun's glean
Running in woodlands in frightful flight
Wounded, bleeding, needing to be unseen
Chased by Mohicans in a land they claim
Stripped of clothing and weapons he had
Given a small lead to be hunted as game
With strength of will the only comrade
Lives in the mountains, this manner of man
Now on panic run for his life and breath
Rushing through brambles that cover the land
The heart will beat stronger to keep from death
Travels rock hills to a valley's wide stream,
to cross chilled rapids with its stoney bank
Lost in a frenzy and caught in a dream
Indians right, Indians left, try to out flank
With fort in sight, open meadow to go
A quick breath, tired legs have acquired
Distance to run causes time to move slow
A whistle is heard by an arrow fired
Pierces the back, he crumbles to the ground
Crawling, gasping, his hands clutching black dirt
Smoke bellows up from the log fort he found
Last sight seen before blood begins to squirt
Awakens to find some leather clad men
They came from the fort, his wounds they attend
Ran for his life and won the Indians game
Mountain of a man , I forgot his name
contest Structured forms...Iambic verse
Frederic Parker 11/11/14
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2014
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