Analysis of SURVIVING
Ken Bartlett 1934 (Leominsterr Mass)
Twelve of us started out in darkness on a long and tedious walk. We climbed in a line to confront a slumbering giant. We knew in our bones he was unlikely to be friendly or compliant.
The stench of his breath could already reach us, permeating the
hairs in our noses. At times burning our eyes and clinging to our
dirty clothes. We trudged on until morn greeted us without bird song, bathing us with an orange glow on brows beaded in sweat and sinews aching below.
Our direction was guided by the rhythm of a Caterpillar tractor
building fire lines to contain 'his nibs'. The vibration became louder and louder until its thump was felt on our ribs: then ebbed in salute of our presence, never once ignoring the essence, of what was lurking
not far from that billowing dust surrounding our heads. Dust thrust
by the strengthening breeze, congealing unease in anticipation of the conflict ahead.
Our arrival on site gave no delight that we could contain and make this fire stable. Our priority became to
locate someplace where we could be safe, yet available. No way was we about to say: “Let's accept defeat and retreat.“
On the left was a south-facing slope. The vegetation was not lush, a mixture of cheatgrass and sagebrush. On the right was a site different and bright. The north-facing slope shimmered from light dancing on young Douglas-fir. Its needles were juicy with resin that makes an excellent tea. Needles that will also burn ferociously.
Good sense guided us a thousand feet up; using shovels, ax and
Pulaski to support our climb and arrive in time before everything became nasty. We had chosen the south slope that leveled out on a bench with no shade and a view of the fire. A place we could shout
out; to anyone coming our way and help desire.
From this position, we were able to rest, watch belching in the drainage below of the awakening and unrest of a blow-up waiting to blow. It continued emitting sudden puffs of smoke, as it sucked in air and exhaled stuff that would choke anything breathing close to its lair.
Concern was expressed for the 'cat skinner'. I lept and leaped on both of my feet to quickly meet him on his tractor. I delivered the warning to get out now. He shrugged his shoulders and replied he was staying and would manage somehow. He did.
Turning my head, attention was placed on climbing the slope and making it before what is in store destroyed my hope.
Halfway back to the top, soaked in sweat, pausing to rest
on limbs barely working; I strained back on my feet. It happened! With a sudden roar and blast, I was pressed to the ground. Digging in fingers I crawled back up the slope. No other memories exist.
The blow-up had become a firestorm, sucking in oxygen and blowing out the fire, making wind that transported it again, to a place no one could possibly desire.
Later we heard the beat of a chopper. The Fire Boss came with
instructions. “Leave for another threatened piece of land”. Before going he said: “Forest fire season is here, that is the reason we need you on up ahead, fire will be back!.” So will I!
Scheme | X XAX AXXX XX X XXA X X X XXA XX |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11110101010101001110011010100101101011101011101010 011111010111000 1010101110101010110 101111011101011110111101111001011001 1001011010101010010 10101101110010011001001111111011100011101010101001011110 1111100101010111 10100110100010101001 10010111101111010111010100100011 1111111101001111011110101001 10110110100101110101101101101100010110110111011101110010110111100110111010100 1110101011101010 010101101001010110011011100111101101111001101001111 11101010101010 110101010111100010011001000011011101110100101011111101001111110101111 0110110110110111111110111110101001011111111000111100110111 1011010111100101010111010111 1111011011011 11101011111111010101011111011001011110111010001 0111010110010001010101011010101101111100010 1011011010010111 01011010101110110111010101111010111110110111111 |
Characters | 3,191 |
Words | 578 |
Sentences | 40 |
Stanzas | 11 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 3, 4, 2, 1, 3, 1, 1, 1, 3, 2 |
Lines Amount | 22 |
Letters per line (avg) | 110 |
Words per line (avg) | 26 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 221 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 52 |
About this poem
A MEMORY OF FIRE FIGHTING ON THE BOISE NATIONAL FOREST IN THE 1950's
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Written on April 15, 2022
Submitted by compostken on October 02, 2022
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:53 min read
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"SURVIVING" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 11 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/138653/surviving>.
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