Hello, I am Dallin Stevenson. I am from Powell, and graduated from Liberty High School Class of 2012. I play guitar in a band called Turtle Island. I love music and I love listening to it. I am an avid collector of vinyl records, and have over 100 vinyl in my collection. I have a relatively large family, with three sisters, all of who are around the age of 30. They are each married and have two children. I also have a brother who is 25, we share the love of nature and the love to camp, and I usually try to make it out to Utah (where he lives) or Idaho, Nevada or Arizona every summer to spend time backpacking or camping with him. To me, the mountains and scenery of the western United States is the one of the most magnificent things you can experience.
When I was writing my poem, which is about a wonderful time I had with my friend while exploring a river, as well as the tranquility and introspection that you can feel when you truly immerse yourself in nature, I tried to remember specific events, so that I could have good imagery, while still remaining ambiguous enough so that readers could ponder what I really meant by certain topics. The vagueness of the poem helps tie into the way I felt on that tired, abnormally warm November Saturday. I noticed that the rhyming pattern goes from A-A B-B to A-B-A-B but I’ll just pretend that was intentional.
Gazing eyes, full of nervous excitement
Subtle and cold, they peer towards my crossed legs
Sitting on the cold hollow cement,
I could sit here, feel the river flow on for days
We walked along banks, meandering through trees
Blood seeped out of cut on the bridge of my nose
In and Indian Summer you don’t have to dodge bees
Again, I see your eyes, now wide like black holes
“Why do we cut our hair?” you asked, all puzzled
Yet as I stared into the river, I found my mind and nuzzled
Wandered and thought until I found peace in a corner
You repeated your question, and my conscience came forward
We threw down a blanket, closing our eyes
We lie in a meadow, bothered by the expanse of skies.
Alter Ego, Lucidity, Expectations speak to me
The grass undulates to the beat of the breeze
We returned to the car and you sang Gimme Shelter
The sun set, our location polluted the star belt
No stars, just black and a sliver of moon
I slept soundly that night, and dreaming fondly of noon.