We parked the car beside the empty road
and wandered off into the morning fog.
the sun was hot behind us as it rose
and bright before us through its lengthy fall.
At last, beneath the dying amber light
we came to what had called us from the road;
we pitched our tent, a sacred, somber rite
where men, in fear and reverence, rarely go.
The morning brought the call and song of birds,
the waist-high grass adorned in shining dew,
the trees were rustling, voicing ancient words
of curse or blessing, no one present knew.
A decade later, there, we built our homes:
there’s no place for our children now to go.

-------------------------

I read it through and now the carpet's clean;
I say this to be truthful (never mean!)
I did not like the poem very much;
to tell the truth, I rather think it sucked!

I think "the Ranch" deserves a second look.
Its body lacks the clothing of a rhyme;
Its grammar scheme will fit in no one's book;
Yet follow it, and all is clear in time.
There's nothing used that really shouldn't be
(Unless the breaking of some rules's a "prob");
You ought not be a dog and "Ranch" a tree;
For Pinsky's Picks, this one's a decent job.(*)

(*) Which is, of course, not necessarily saying much...:)

That said, your sonnet still is just as keen
In meaning as the subject of this text.
I'm rather touched by what the poem means;
But sonnet-ized, yours doesn't leave me vexed.

wr ()()

Foobs:

We parked the car beside the empty road
and wandered off into the morning fog.
the sun was hot behind us as it rose
and bright before us through its lengthy fall.
At last, beneath the dying amber light
we came to what had called us from the road;
we pitched our tent, a sacred, somber rite
where men, in fear and reverence, rarely go.
The morning brought the call and song of birds,
the waist-high grass adorned in shining dew,
the trees were rustling, voicing ancient words
of curse or blessing, no one present knew.
A decade later, there, we built our homes:
there’s no place for our children now to go.

-------------------------

I read it through and now the carpet's clean;
I say this to be truthful (never mean!)
I did not like the poem very much;
to tell the truth, I rather think it sucked!