mix mud and heavy raindrops,
a murky puddle void of
the skill to mirror even
the slightest silhouette,
pour some more, pour some
more, until it overpours into
a snake-shaped waterway
flowing gently in May,
in a rugged rush on
monsoon days,
either way, on it, lays
the floating wood and
men with paddle arms
away from their thatched
huts they sail, and sail,
and sail, before even the
first breaking of day,
throwing their nets with
their lean, chocolate arms,
add a whisper, begging
the god of fishes for
a good harvest,
to let this day fill
the chipped, cold plates
waiting back home.
—
A wonderfully evocative journey down the river of your childhood. Thank you for sharing!
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Ah. Thank you for joining me in this throwback sailing, Ingrid.
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Such vivid and descriptive imagery while we sail with you to your past. This is indeed evocative, and it is especially warm in that memory of fishing. That must have been fun and exhausting!
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I think when the harvest is bountiful it is fun. But when the nets are half-empty it becomes tiresome.
Thank you for joining me in this memory, Lucy!
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Your description of the river is so vivid, and then that final stanza brings home the realities of needing to fish to feed your family – up so early to face hard work, and uncertainty. I love this poem so much.
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Ah. You captured the essence perfectly, Sarah. It is the life of a lot of men in my town. But they have grit so they continue sail. Thank you.
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“pour some more, pour some
more, until it overpours into
a snake-shaped waterway
flowing gently in May,
in a rugged rush on
monsoon days” I am amazed!! You’ve used the prompt and let us have a peek into your early life. Thanks for sharing this.
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Hello, there! Thank you for your kind words. Really appreciate them. And grateful that you follow, too. Welcome to my little corner.
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My pleasure, I assure you 🙂
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thank you!
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Nothing beats home Rosie…😍😍
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agreeeed! been complaining to my Tatay about the tilapias here. nothing has the sweet freshness of what i get at home T_T
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Ahhh yeah..that’s right..masarap pa din sa atin..
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truuue!
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great imagery and such a tough life, well composed!
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indeed it is tough. but those men are hard working. what’s your fond memory on your childhood town, dear Kate?
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the fun we created ourselves … mud-skiing, exploring, leading a visitor on a long hike and then take them easy way home 🙂
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wow! sounds soooo fun, indeed!
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we were a large group of varied ages and always creative … no drugs or violence amongst us, learnt about them later!
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ahh. the best way!
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Beautiful. Love your descriptive and evocative poem.
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Oh thank you for your kind words, Imelda!
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I love the early morning trek through the monsoon flooded waterways to seek a days catch! Very nice images!!
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Ah. you described it perfectly, Roth. Thank you!
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Great!!
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🙂
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Wonderful poem that says so much, especially that last bit. My favorite lines:
“either way, on it, lays
the floating wood and
men with paddle arms” ❤
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ooooh. Thank you for highlighting those lines, Ms. Jade. Appreciate your thoughts!
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My pleasure.
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🙂
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this is a sensational poem – you write about what you know and convey it so lyrically
“pour some more, pour some
more, until it overpours into
a snake-shaped waterway
flowing gently in May,”
but beneath it all there is a stark reality
“begging
the god of fishes for
a good harvest,
to let this day fill
the chipped, cold plates
waiting back home.”
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thank you for your kind words, Ms. Laura. Each one of us carries a story, I believe. 🙂
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to let this day fill
the chipped, cold plates
waiting back home.
Amen! A powerful and poignant share.
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oh thank you, MW! ❤
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I love how you brought it home with the fishermen’s need to for a catch to feed the family. This contrasts so well with the lyrical description of the river itself.
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Thank you for noticing them, Bjorn!
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