Down from the purple mist of trees on the mountain,
lurching through forests of white spruce and cedar,
stumbling through tamarack swamps,
came the bull moose
to be stopped at last by a pole-fenced pasture.
Too tired to turn or, perhaps, aware
there was no place left to go, he stood with the cattle.
They, scenting the musk of death, seeing his great head
like the ritual mask of a blood god, moved to the other end
of the field, and waited.
The neighbours heard of it, and by afternoon
cars lined the road. The children teased him
with alder switches and he gazed at them
like an old, tolerant collie. The woman asked
if he could have escaped from a Fair.
The oldest man in the parish remembered seeing
a gelded moose yoked with an ox for plowing.
The young men snickered and tried to pour beer
down his throat, while their girl friends took their pictures.
And the bull moose let them stroke his tick-ravaged flanks,
let them pry open his jaws with bottles, let a giggling girl
plant a little purple cap
of thistles on his head.
When the wardens came, everyone agreed it was a shame
to shoot anything so shaggy and cuddlesome.
He looked like the kind of pet
women put to bed with their sons.
So they held their fire. But just as the sun dropped in the river
the bull moose gathered his strength
like a scaffolded king, straightened and lifted his horns
so that even the wardens backed away as they raised their rifles.
When he roared, people ran to their cars. All the young men
leaned on their automobile horns as he toppled.
Submitted by cutebabystar
o they held their fire. But just as the sun dropped in the river the bull moose gathered his strength like a scaffolded king, straightened and lifted his horns so that even the wardens backed away as they raised their rifles. great expressions in a descriptive Poem. than k u. tony
Great imagery and fantastic storyline with fine flow....I loved it, Down from the purple mist of trees on the mountain, lurching through forests of white spruce and cedar, stumbling through tamarack swamps, came the bull moose to be stopped at last by a pole-fenced pasture.
Apt poem on bull fight being selected as Modern Poem of the Day by PH! Congrats to the Poet!
Reminds me of the revellers on the beaches in Florida during this crisis. They too want to shoot we bull moose with covid bullets.
A beautiful story is lying behind this beautiful poem composed by Alden Nowlan.
When he roared, people ran to their cars. All the young men leaned on their automobile horns as he toppled. a fine poem.tony
A beautiful story poem reminding to some extent the story of the taming of the bull. Congrats on well deserved modern poem of the Day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is an absolutely brilliant poem. Symbolism is obvious... just in the first line- down, meaning that he has come from 'up' or power, then purple, which symbolizes royalty, purple mist- somewhat magical.Truely an astounding poem.