Dreadnaught

[tectak]

Thanks Jack

And thanks to everyone who offered advice!

I did a revision I hope it is clearer:

Revision 1

As a tumbleweed soft on the roadAs tumbleweed blows down the road
I travel down paths no one goes.I travel on pathways unknown. Or,and happily,if you are a wild west cowboy. "On pathways unknowed"
Behind the enormous old pines: Behind some gigantic old pines,there's a shack where the ol' river winds
a shack where the old river winds.

It's moss laden roof showing first,this whole stanza is a mess of mixed up specifics. Last mentioned is the river. Then an unrelated "it" which gives us a river with a roof. What's wrong with a mossy roof that leads you to anguished speculation. You do not say and I do not know. Yikes,who is this small big guy? Where did he pop up from?
I really expected the worst.
Alone, he looked smaller than I,
but he was a fairly big guy.

A shotgun was close by his hand
when I he saw me set foot on his land.
He thought that I meant him no harm
invited me inside to warm.so he asked me inside to warm

"So where are you coming from, Son?”
“Just passin' through. Are you done?”not convincing narrative. Forget it.
"No reason to get so damn loud!not convincing narrative. Forget it
Don't get many visitors now."not convincing narrative. Not connected. Forget it

He stood up and belched out guffaws,
said he had once run with outlaws.
The bandit, ole Arny O'Keefe . . .
I knew that he lied through his teeth.Mark,these are song lyrics and they are just not poetic. The narrative is cringingly unreadable....but pehaps singable
His face hinted that he must know
(and no one could knowingly know.)there is no sense in this that I can see. But nor is the brokeback mountain scenario coming up.
He wanted my trust far too much
so my hand shied away from his touch.

I spied his guitar on the floor
when I first walked through his front door.
I raked every string with my nails
and soaked up the wondrous details.some merit in this as a scene setting stanza
and you should work on it.All is not lost......yet
He guarded the beans as I sat.is there some implicit threat to beans from.a sitting man? Again, ill-advisedly you are searching for something to pad this out. Just let it come by itself. The next lines are so far out of character that my worst fears are realised. You have lost control of this piece and it genuinely pains me to say so.....but not as much as continuing to criticise your work. From now to the end it is ferociously forced and needs to be gently simmered and left overnight.
The chat rather quickly fell flat.
As quick, I was out of my chair,
he tended the food with a stare.

The dusk settled outside of him
while thickening silences within
aroused all my doubts in a rage.
As calm from the outside as sage.

I aimed it away from the stove
so blood went away when I drove
the old box guitar through his face-
don't want all the food here to waste.

As soon as I'd eaten, I ran
as fast as a guilty man can.
The taste of his skin on my lips
and the flesh of his bone in my ribs.

Alone and forsaken by all,
I live for the taste of the fall.
As a tumbleweed soft on the road
I travel down paths no one goes.

I am really sorry ,Mark, but I just cannot say that I find this a successful write. I believe in your concept but not your execution.....I will leave the guillotine to others! As I mentioned somewhere, you are essentially a song writer who leans to poetry........perhaps you should become a poet who leans to song-writing. I am at a loss with this one so listen to others.
Best,
Tectak