We Were Free – Author D.B. Hall

I remember the days of running free

bare-chests heaving

we ran fleetly

down well beaten wooded paths

with pokeberry painted faces.

 

Carrying our carefully crafted wooden bows

strung with old shoelaces and twine

and our imagined arrows

flying through the air

with immaculate precision.

 

Phantom masked outlaws

died by the dozens

and we never lost a battle

to an attacking tribe.

 

However, we did suffer serious damage

when the visiting traitor

kicked over the yellow jackets nest

and they went flying and stinging

all the way up the my pants

and all in your shirt.

 

I remember the crazy dance

as we stripped down

swatting and screaming

I don’t know if we brought down rain

but the gods probably laughed.

 

We scaled tall oak trees

explored meandering creeks

ranged deep into the woods

squinted into the setting sun

of the distant horizon

until the sound of supper’s call.

 

Tanned and freckled

we laughed and played

friends forever

sealed by blood

separated by death.

 

Now you are free.

 

© D.B. Hall

Pebbles in the Stream

Excerpt from the book “Pebbles in the Stream”


D.B. Hall

About the Author

David Hall was born in a small town called Mount Airy (A.K.A Mayberry) nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains which are part of the large Appalachian Mountain chain. His early life involved a lot of traveling with his missionary parents, which involved stints of living in Mexico and Bolivia. His poetry reflects a love for nature and life mixed with a sense of the rustic Americana spirit and sprinkled with a lingering sense of the spiritual guidance infused by his southern religious upbringing. David has always been able to live in the moment enjoying it to the fullest while being able to be separated within himself seeking something more. Poetry is one of those outlets that gives him that something more. The diversity of genres and endless array of topics allow him to dive into poetry with reckless abandon or with fine-tuned precision; whichever is needed. Like a prism there are many sides of David, from the emotional connections when dealing with death, to the touch of the spring breeze on your neck hairs, David’s poetry can put you there.

Visit David’s  Author Page At: www.ctupublishinggroup.com/d.b.-hall.html



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