Ancient Moorings

Behind the farmhouse,
smell of manure
from the corrals.
Noisy buzz of blowflies;
Pigs snorting, chickens cackling.
Things signify,
puzzling me,
a tray from which coffee
sugar and cream
have vanished.

I must debunk habit,
tradition and non-change.
I want my Dad’s straw hat
to materialize
as a mythical rose.
I’ll barter his hat
for an uncertain blossom;
Freedom from ancient moorings.

About This Poem

Review Request Direction: Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Río Negro, Argentine Patagonia , ARG

Favorite Poets: Sylvia Plath

Comments

hi Gracy

I want my Dad's straw hat
to materialize
as a mythical rose

I love that sentiment and elegantly put well done Gracy

hi Gracy

a touching piece that seems to reveal something of your childhood

Hi again, yes, it's about my

Hi again, yes, it's about my childhood. I consider it one of my weakest efforts, but I'm so glad it touched you. Best, Gracy

hi Gracy

I don't see it as a weak effort in the least. It's very touching

hi Gracy

I guess a desire to return to simpler times is universal. childhood was a very happy time for me I am blessed with wonderful parents and a lovely sister

Hi Gracy

I agree with what Dalton has said...

nice short poem expressing an ardent desire...

Dear Teddy, these are memories of when my Dad took us to an estancia way out on the steppes of Patagonia. He administered the 15.000 acre lands and also checked the accounts. The boss, or Patrón as we say in Spanish, was not trustworthy. I have some poems about all that, far longer. I'll post them soon, but I warn you that they're not pretty...lol.
I learned to drive a jeep out on the winding earth roads. The homestead was colonial style, with an arched terrace and a brick well. Although most of the estancia was brushland, it was green and fertile where an uncle of mine had installed irrigation canals, so all around the homestead it was beautiful, with amazing woods and colourful birds.
Sorry for going on so much. Yes, I admired my Dad a lot. He was the Treasurer of many small companies, as well, he was known as the one who could be trusted!
Enough said, thank you for your interest and kind words, Gracy

Memories...

are what this life is made of and you have a way of relating them to us; in a manner that we can relate to. Beautiful. ~ Geez.
.

Hi Geez, thanks for coming to

Hi Geez, thanks for coming to read my simple poem. I'm glad you can relate to it. I've already told Teddy much of what it's about, so I'll not repeat it. All the best, Gracy

Hi Jerry, the truth is that

Hi Jerry, the truth is that we mostly drank "mate en bombilla" or "mate cocido", which is green tea that originated in Paraguay. But we enjoyed our coffee and still do.
Thanks for visiting and I'm glad you like. Enjoy your wife's Jave tea.
Best, Gracy

dear Gracy,

I love this piece! while reading it, I took my own stroll down memory lane.it led to childhood of age 6 and seven, before the divorce and bad times. my dad was a Landscaper. he cut and rolled his own sod. on mornings when I went with him I got to ride on the tractor and on the Cat/Caterpillar I sat on my dad's lap and steered. thank you so very much for posting this, as it brought such great and cherished memories! great work!

*hugs, Cat
-
.

Hi Cat, I'm glad it brought

Hi Cat, I'm glad it brought back cherished memories for you. I also rode the tractor with my Dad, my brother or anybody who would allow me to do it. I learned to drive an old jeep on earth roads when I was about 14.
Keep safe, Gracy.
Looking forward to Spring days in Patagonia. Temps will rise to 15°C.