Hunting for Chanterelle, revised again Options

[Cyn]

Hunting for Chanterelle

I search the ground
for pushed-up earth
where careful brush
reveals a blush
of fleshy face.

Perhaps I’ll find you.

I find the well worn path of deer
who browse the broken bushes.
Here, the traveled trail is shared:
The tigress, Isabella, wears
a harbinger upon her back,
her sweater knit more copper than black
in front of winter.

I hope I find you.

I step lightly
and unseen
among the waxy wintergreen
whose white-veined leaves shine with the dark
promise of scent.

I cannot find you

I pick my way
through pipsissewa
ripe with berry
bitter and raw,
discover snakeroot, blue cohosh
layered in October’s cloth
and everywhere, the well-dug signs
of harvesters who've hurried here
before me.


Hunting for Chanterelles revision

We search the ground
for pushed-up earth
where careful brush
reveals a blush
of fleshy face.

We find the well worn path of deer
who browse the bushes,
branching here,
we share the trail with a wooly-bear
on his inched-way to who-knows-where
his sweater knit more orange than black
in front of winter.

We step lightly
and unseen
among the waxy wintergreen
whose white-veined leaves shine with the dark
promise of scent.

We pick our way
through pipsissewa
ripe with berry
bitter and raw,
discover snakeroot, blue cohosh
dressed in autumn’s cloth

and everywhere, the well-dug signs
of harvesters who've hurried here
before us.



Hunting for Chantrels

We search the ground
for pushed-up earth
where careful brush
just might reveal a blush
of fleshy face.

We find the well worn path of deer
who browse the bushes
here and share
it with a wooly-bear
on his slow way
to who-knows-where.

We step lightly
and unseen
among the wintergreen
whose verdant leaves
shine dark - a promise of scent.

And pick our way
through pippsissewa
ripe with berry
bitter and raw,

discover snakeroot, blue cohosh
now dressed in autumn’s cloth
and everywhere, the well-dug signs
of hunters who have hurried here
before us.

[Guest_Gregory_*]

Cyn, there is some good description here, and some evocative word play. Here are some suggestions. (add) [delete]

We search the ground
for pushed-up earth
where (a) careful brush (or "where careful brushing...")
just might reveal a blush
of fleshy face.

Nice wording, the last phrase just rolls of the tongue.

We find the well worn path of deer
who browse the bush[es] sounds better without the plural
here and share
it with a wooly-bear
on his slow way
to who-knows-where.

We step lightly
and unseen
among the wintergreen
whose verdant leaves
shine dark(ly) - a promise of scent. These two phrases seem not to be linked, does their shine promise the scent, or just the leaves?

And pick our way
through pippsissewa
ripe with berry
bitter and raw, why the line break here?

discover snakeroot, blue cohosh
now dressed in autumn’s cloth
and everywhere, the well-dug signs
of hunters who have hurried here
before [us]. Kind of a tautology.

I't seems you missed out on the fleshy faces after all, I feel like the journey is not quite complete. The whole poem is tight, but does seem a little light weight, just a description. Perhaps I was looking for the reactions of the characters and the meaning of the search? Enjoyed this nonetheless, Gregory

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Hi Cyn!

You have some lovely descriptions here. It makes me want to go traipsing through the woods! *smiles*

A few thoughts for you to use or lose...

Cathy

We search the ground
for pushed-up earth Is this an animal 'pushing' up from the ground or a human hunter 'turning' up the ground? This makes it sound as though something is coming from underneath to the surface and I assumed it was a human hunting for something.May be just me! LOL
where careful brush
just might reveal a blush
of fleshy face. Puts me in mind of a mushroom. What is 'chantrel' BTW? I looked it up but couldn't find it anywhere.

We find the well[-]worn path of deer
who browse the bushes
here and share
it with a wooly-bear *smiles* I like the sound of wooly-bear!
on his slow way
to who-knows-where.

We step lightly
and unseen
among the wintergreen
whose verdant leaves
shine dark - a promise of scent.

And pick our way Since you have an end stop on the line above should this start with 'And'?
through pippsissewa
ripe with berry[-]
bitter and raw,

discover snakeroot, blue cohosh
now dressed in autumn’s cloth
and everywhere, the well-dug signs
of hunters who have hurried here
before us.

[Cyn]

Gregory
Thanks, yes I was afraid the metaphor would be a little too sketchy and I might have to draw it out better. Thanks also for your other suggestions. I will look and see if I can employ them without disrupting the pace I was trying to set up in this

Cathy LOL Chantrels ARE mushrooms

[Cyn]

oh and a more common spelling is chantarelles
would have found that on Google

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Well what d' ya know!! I thought about a google search but I've never done one so I didn't know how! LOL Talk about a dummy!

Cathy

[Cyn]

this has been revised slightly

[JustDaniel]

Just passing through, Cyn...

but I love your little excursion... and could not help but notice the several lines which if they were extended and/or shortened become metrically rhyming couplets! Beautiful so deeply as I've read it so far.

But back to work,

Lightly, Daniel

[Cyn]

thanks for dropping into my woods Daniel. I HAVE actually written this as a metered verse, which I will post later in the other forum just for you. But I think all things considered I like the "feel" of the non-metric version.


I have revised this yet again in a slightly different direction

[JustDaniel]

Hey, Cyn... I'm finally back ta walk around behind ya, jest larnin' to pick these fascinatin' creations! I'm gettin' black between my coppered toes!

Hunting for Chanterelle

I search the ground
for pushed-up earth
where a careful brush
reveals a blush
of fleshy face.

Perhaps I’ll find you.

I find sight the well worn path of deer
who browse through broken bushes.
Here, their traveled trail is shared:
The [ Something to hint a bit more who she is, e.g. Sweet ? ] tigress, Isabella, wears
a harbinger upon her back,
her sweater knit more copper than black
in front of winter.

I hope I find you.

I step lightly[,]
and prowl unseen
among the waxy wintergreen
whose its white-veined leaves shine alight with the dark
promise of scent.

I cannot find you

I pick my way
through pipsissewa
ripe with berry
bitter[,] and raw,
discover snakeroot, blue cohosh
layered in October’s cloth
and everywhere, the fresh, well-dug signs
of harvesters who've hurried here
before ahead of me.

Did they find you?

Well, my friend, my little offering may just be tossed onto your mulch pile; I know it's not exactly mushrooming with originality...

but it is dark out here in this place... and even a bit murky. Best I could do under the circumstances, ya know.

always tryin' ta leave a Light trail, Daniel _______