My father when he drank
a man who would fight at the drop of a hat
mellowed & made light of his condition
a man who loved women & sang songs to them
danced, high-stepping, across their hearts
when he drank
drank bourbon by choice with its mix of grains
its limestone spring water
or drank moonshine with his friends
once when he drank alone on Lake Cumberland
he claimed he saw a mermaid below the Falls
swimming she was
swam up to his boat
& asked for a drink
& he shared his Makers with her
& she shared her story
there on the front of his wooden
square nosed boat
& when she drank enough to feel
she took his reel & fished
her hook baited with a scale she peeled
from her slender lower half
he said
but all she managed to catch
all afternoon
was his complete
& undivided attention
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Mermaids, Yay. :)
Serious poem. I think. With a Poet's somewhat magical eye making it somewhat whimsical but bittersweet really.
And that little feel / reel /peel section very sly indeed.
Enjoyed this. Several times actually. Definitely for me a poem that leaves you feeling .. all sorts of things. I wonder about the boy watching the Dad, both when he had too much to drink and when he didn't, about the Dad who danced on hearts, about the girl who captured his undivided attention ...
Poet, keep writing more, please.
Lisa
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Thanks for reading this several times, lisa. As for the boy watching the Dad, the boy grew wiser. The Dad who danced on hearts stayed married to one woman for 57 years, but the girl who caught his undivided attention loved him, usually at a distance & never physically. Thanks for using the word sly again about my work & I normally do not enter contests, but I have an idea I will. The one quote I did not see on your treatise of the word: beauty, was Frost's...
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Well there were a few more (many more) that I painfully had to not include I was getting fearful people might get annoyed by all the quotes --
Yay. A poem perhaps from mtpoet of Beauty....
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Eye of the Beholder--perhaps--a poem is up...
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always always to perfection. bitter memories tho, my father drank too...but for days on end.
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lute, trying to correct an error...
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I do have some of those memories as well, lute, but my father never drank for days on end & as he approached the end, he never drank at all. Appreciate your words...
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Great Poem
This is a terrifically interesting (and may I say amusing?) poem, written to perfection. -
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Thanks, Jaden... The one thing about my father was the way he approached life--always bringing laughter in his wake...
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