{This is in response to a prompt from What Pegman Saw, which takes us, this week, to Mackinac Island , on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, USA. The shot, I just liked. It has very little to do with the poem. I never lived on Mackinac, but I did live on the Upper Peninsula, early in life. Thanks Karen, for the prompt, and to all of you, for reading!}
My spirit crawls the boulders black
Upon this childhood shore.
Impervious to cold’s attack,
I scale the rocks at Mackinac,
My parents’ calls, ignore.
A summer, spent in double casts,
My spirit did not fade.
I stood, when I could, on the rocks, and asked
Forgiveness, from the stormy blast,
And waves rushed to my aid.
A tiny house on Mackinac,
All wood and watercolor,
Protected us from winter’s wrack,
(Six months, I wore an anorak)
But your birth, it put an end to that,
And I had to share my mother.
Copyright 2018 Andrea LeDew
Great poem. I love how you captured the elements and her relationship with them and that arrival of a sibling at the end – welcome or not? Well done Andrea
Thank you Lynn. As for welcoming a sibling, I think you would be hard-pressed to find a child who wasn’t, at least, ambivalent at the prospect. I think it usually turns out–and certainly in my case–that brothers and sisters are the greatest gifts our parents leave us.
It’s hard to say which confection I like best–your poetry or your storytelling, but I know I greatly enjoy them both! Especially loved the rhythm of this.
Thank you Karen. I am so pleased with the word “confection,” being rather fond of sweets, myself. The feeling of enjoyment is mutual, I assure you!
Almost a lullaby of a summer gone, a summer breezed with pain. Lovely, Andrea.
Thanks Kelvin. Beautiful comment.
Very soothing to ear. Loved it.
Thanks Abhiray. I’m so pleased.
Wonderful poem, Andrea.
Such a cool take on the prompt.
Thanks Dale. I seem to be taking a child’s perspective more often than not these days. This poem recollects fond memories of the bracing climate of the area, hardships I was too young to really understand, related to my hip issues, and my dear mom’s pregnancy throughout this period resulting in my sister. It also occurred to me, while reading the comments, that losing your mother to death has a similar feel: you must give her up entirely in order to “share” her.
I like the meter in your poem
and am glad you’ve joined us in the forum.
Pegman’s travels and their depiction
ought not be just confined to fiction.
😉
Thank you J Hardy! What a delicious rhyme! I am partial to meter, rhyme, and other silly old conventions, ones that so many poets have abandoned these days! I think the discipline of the metered rhyme scheme is an effective means of keeping “in line” my otherwise unruly thoughts and emotions.
You’ve found an expressive way to share your love for wild places and your fortitude in the face of adversity. Nice poem, Andi.
Fortitude, when applied to my childhood self, might be a bit of an overstatement, but thank you anyway. ?. I do love wild places, and standing on the shore of a Great Lake can be wild, indeed. I also miss rocks and boulders, which are in short supply in Florida, the glaciers having rather neglected us in the last Ice Age.
Love your poems, Andrea!
Thanks Brad! Your looking in on my poetry has been very encouraging!
I also look forward to the mysterious scraps of history you present to us in your blog. Every time you post, we see a different intriguing old photograph. You could easily start your own literary prompt series!