Open Link Night #282 at dVerse. I've been thinking of good intentions and best laid plans. While this poem is not autobiographical, I have my own set of best laid plans that never came to fruition. One of my best intentions is to join in the live exchange. Perhaps next week. Submitted to dVerse January 21, 2021
****************************
My daddy used to say
Is the cabin where I was born
I want to go back one day
I want to hear the whippoorwill
See the flash of the red-tailed hawk
I want to hear my mother
In that soft, tender way she talked
I want to see the sun come up
Over the top of Cosgrove’s mountain
And taste the crystal clear water
From Cardwell’s artesian fountain
I want to be again the barefoot boy
With my home-made fishing pole
And skinny dip with a boyhood friend
In our secret swimming hole
I always thought I’d take him back
To the Appalachia he wanted to see
Somehow there wasn’t time enough
For that trip for Daddy and me.
And if I had my life to live over
I’d take care to set aside
Some time for me and Daddy
And we’d take that mountain ride.
This is incredibly moving, Beverly! May our intentions be fulfilled beyond expectation and bring us joy! 💝💝
ReplyDeleteBittersweet .. beautifully told from generational views. I lost my Dad when I was 16, missed so many years of stories.
ReplyDeleteYour poem brings back some of the stories I've heard Johnny Cash tell. Beverly, I really hope you make it to the live pub next time.
ReplyDeleteHeart touching, bittersweet and evocative poem
ReplyDeleteReminds of that bittersweet song of Cat Stevens ... well written!
ReplyDeleteagree Beverly, those words totally intrigued me ... I'd love to hear them set to music.
I actually thought of sending it to Garth Brooks, Kate. I'd love to hear him sing it!
DeleteThis sounds like a wonderful place and I hope that you at least get to go back there! I also hope to hear you read :-)
ReplyDeleteBittersweet and lovely Beverly.
ReplyDeleteI too have best laid plans I doubt will ever come to fruition.
Anna :o]
When you run out of time...Your poem has a gentle, lilting tone. Even if it isn't autobiographical, it comes from the heart.
ReplyDeleteYou made me cry Bev. This was tender, sad, and full of love. Just wonderful writing my friend!
ReplyDeleteThere is a lot of love in your words. Unfullfilled intentions can become sad regrets. You wrote with longing. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteCharming and tender, such a great ode to simpler times.
ReplyDeleteApologies for reading and commenting late, Bev. I enjoyed your nostalgic trip so much! It reminded me of the films and books that introduced me to America. I wasn’t sure if it was real, but from reading your poems, and those of others, I know that it is. I used to dream of living in a log cabin and listening to whippoorwills.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for your kind comment, Kim. After the American Revolution, the government encouraged settlement of lands west of the Ohio River by requiring a settler to clear the land and build a cabin at least 10 by 12 feet in size with one window. My ancestors were some of the earliest settlers west of the Ohio, and the area was peppered with such log cabins. Further west where there were no forests, settlers cut blocks of sod from the prairie and build their homes of sod. These were called sod shanties.
Deletea trip down memeory lane is always good. sorry i am late reading
ReplyDeleteSo poignant Beverly! This is both personal and universal--that desire to return and the wish that we could have done more for loved ones.
ReplyDelete