Doug Vinson Poet Quatrain

The Inclination of Glass Cannons

Shuttling beyond the lay
Of the land that may
End at the water,
Splash and fish, tide and otter.

War birds knocking stars from Heaven,
Wolf packs moving, six or seven
Or eight, the modern metabolic rate,
Society redeems the weight of hate.

Reversions to no merry mean,
We wash to make the world unclean,
We wash to upraise our station,
We wash to conclude causation.

Taking my place within the past,
An epic form of gratification,
I won't outlast, the die is cast,
So let's get on with vilification.

Bright sunny days, untrammeled ways or
Other poets' words so light,
Yet I shift and stray, I make the play for
The coming armies of the night.

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Doug Vinson June 9, 2020 at 12:09 PM Three years later, definitely closer now.

Lynn Marie August 23, 2017 at 6:40 PM This is fantastic Doug:) I love the first stanza (otter?..brilliant!), then I found myself smiling more with each verse...so good I reread a few times. The title is grand, your words brimming with insights into a glaring truth few acknowledge, even fewer dare to venture. Superb thoughtful writing, it is always a pleasure to read you. Be well xo Doug Vinson August 24, 2017 at 4:33 PM Cheers, Lynn. : )

Kunda Chamatete February 2, 2017 at 4:28 PM Your poem to me feels like diagonals of an octagon meeting at its centre. Excellent write Doug :) Doug Vinson February 2, 2017 at 10:24 PM Thank you, Kunda. : ) Weaving a tight pattern, perhaps, indeed.

Lim'Rik Flats January 8, 2017 at 8:57 AM Was this before or after the World of Tanks frenzy? Just curious. Either way, made a few more craters in my shelled out brain. Will ponder and await the armies of the night, (which, here, is coyotes serenading all night long). Cheers ~ john Doug Vinson January 8, 2017 at 10:18 AM It's extra cute when there are a bunch of really young ones joining in the choir. : ) I wasn't thinking about tanks, though of course cannons and tanks go together. Lots of people play that game and others for years....

Robert Lindley January 7, 2017 at 3:39 PM Love the depth, intensity and glaring truth in this fine poem! You cut a mighty fine gash with that sword my friend! Solid 7 and added as a fav . Doug Vinson January 8, 2017 at 10:14 AM Thank you, Robert. I wonder how "momentous" these times really are.

John Lawless January 7, 2017 at 6:58 AM OK, Doug, the title had my mind reeling before I read this very intriguing write. I will come back to this poem again as it raised a bit of dust in the back corners of my mind. Doug Vinson January 8, 2017 at 10:11 AM Hey John. : ) I really didn't start out meaning anything 'serious' - sometimes you don't know what's going to happen. As for the title, I just thought it sounded cool.

Doug Vinson January 6, 2017 at 7:12 PM Oh Geez, people, this sounds awfully grim - more than I intended it to. Ah well....

Daniel Turner January 6, 2017 at 4:56 PM Humanity, Ha! "Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone" Deep write, Doug:) Doug Vinson January 6, 2017 at 7:11 PM *Word* (as they say). Cheers, Daniel. : ) (Or is it already that they only used to say that?)

Phatt Matt January 6, 2017 at 4:36 PM nice and powerful poem doug~phatt Doug Vinson January 6, 2017 at 4:48 PM Hiya, Phatt. : )

Chris Green January 6, 2017 at 4:29 PM Wow my friend, this was incredible. So much is happening in this poem but it is not overwhelming or preachy. You chose your words and phrases nicely and the rhymes are virtually seamless. Really nice Doug. Doug Vinson January 6, 2017 at 4:54 PM Thanks, Chris. I began, intending to make it difficult. Cryptic or semi-crytic title, and then later some parts did seem to come together, smooth as otter pelt, while others remained hard. As a whole, I think it ended up uneven, which fit my original feeling.

Nette Onclaud January 6, 2017 at 4:23 PM powerful work with great visuals of our present circumstances, doug... well done..huggs Doug Vinson January 6, 2017 at 4:52 PM Hey Nette. : ) Nobody starts out wanting a bleak or disturbed outlook, and I wonder to what extent things really do change, versus our perceptions of them.