I stole Milne's painting,
now in photographic film, splayed
on a foreign screen,
in a landscape void of life,
and hey- I'm not too proud of it.
But who would be?
of an image within an image,
a facsimile of vision,
and a breath of death,
exhumed with other bones:
those scattered remains
of Great Canadian Poets,
and I shudder at the name-
"A Country North of Belleville…"
untouched on the page,
and never the same,
as uncovered
by that beer-drinkin' man,
stumbling through the trees
like trylobites, like bones,
like soft outlines of fading beige
turning brown
as long fallen leaves,
entombed under a siege of snow,
expressed, under careful scrutiny
almost a century ago
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.