Deep In The Forest
I took the overgrown trail
leading down to black water,
but I did not know what to do;
I am no woodsman;
don't know cucumbers from henbane;
but I ate some berries anyway
and ulcers formed in my mouth.
Nature is supposed to be a horn of plenty:
it is also a horn of disaster,
as I lay curled in pain and convulsing.
From this point on, should I survive,
I will stick to the dunes, and carry distilled water
and granola bars. The deep woods are frantic
with divebombing insects all wishing to sting one;
and lizards big enough to chase you down,
inflictig a bite that festers over days,
so when they find you crawling with disease
they eat you.
I, by rote, am now a city-dweller,
although, mind you, the dunes of the clean desert
call: at least there one can see the snakes ahead of time...
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Deep In The Forest by Stan Petrovich )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley