Where the Red Fern Grows

Submitted by Libby on Thu, 10/19/2017 - 00:21

The day my dogs I chose
I was all in a riot
An empty stomach was my diet
Our home was full of disquiet
My dogs were sweet, dare I deny it?

They are still now and quiet
Where the red fern grows.

My grief on me bestows
A sense of failed endeavor
To save my dogs, so clever
I know I’d do whatever—
Now I will see them never!

Will they lie there forever,
Where the red fern grows?

The thought of his wet nose,
‘Gainst my fingers did it wander,
Of her clouded eyes, no wonder,
The thorn bush she lay under,
Makes my heart burst asunder.

Do you see the graves yonder,
Where the red fern grows?

Look! Shadows that disclose
A single one stone graveyard.
Above it bends, unmarred,
Red boughs that malice ward
And evil disregard.

For I know that angels guard
Where the red fern grows.

Author's age when written

Written after reading "Where the Red Fern Grows". Feedback is very welcome, as the rhythm is not consistent.


Wow... this is beautiful Libby. It's a really moving way to capture such a sad story.

"The idea that we should approach science without a philosophy is itself a philosophy... and a bad one, because it is self-refuting." -- Dr. Jason Lisle

This is lovely, Libby. The rhythm, though uneven, is not trippy. I think it's perfect as is. Plus I love your rhyme scheme. :)

I don’t thrive off of chaos: chaos thrives off of me.