On Peg

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is one of a collection of three based on themes from a driven game shoot in Wiltshire, England.

The titles cover guns, beaters and dogs and, in essence, capture the thoughts, feelings, sounds emotions of a fabulous day in our glorious countryside. I hope you enjoy the poetry for what it is and not critical or put off by its theme.

Enjoy!

G P Nash

Submitted: May 28, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 28, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

On Peg

 

We walk to our drawn numbered peg,

Some with, and without their faithful one.

Stop, settle, load and prepare,

The start of the drive is nigh.

 

Which way the wind? Which way the birds?

The whistles and crops pushing.

Get set, hold tight, steady your feet,

Thoughts racing, but must gain control.

 

There, ‘over’, Where? Where? There!

Bang, one down, bang two down.

Calm as broken guns retreat and reload,

This next one is mine for sure.

 

‘Over’ called accompanied whistle shrill,

Higher and higher ‘til overhead quick.

Line up, steady and squeeze gently,

Bang, she’s mine, and on to the next.

 

Time lost, reload and focus again,

Sky moves and darts and dips under cloud.

Sporting challenge once more await,

Bang, yes, another, bang, and another; reload.

 

How many more? Come on, reload quickly.

Here’s the high flyer of the day in sight,

Left to right, swooping low and dip,

Be quick! Follow through and squeeze again.

 

The end of the drive finds cartridges strewn,

As the horn sounds three times; calm barrels.

Eject shells, smell cordite and sense pride,

Relief and chatter for a worthwhile day.

 


© Copyright 2017 G P Nash. All rights reserved.

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