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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.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

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

I love that sentiment and elegantly put well done Gracy

a touching piece that seems to reveal something of your childhood

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

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

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

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

I agree with what Dalton has said...

nice short poem expressing an ardent desire...

raj (sublime_ocean)

another stunning poem my dear girl. in this I see that your memories overwhelm you with much joy and love, and i also see that you feel the need to let go of something, or have a change

It's the second of your poems with your wonderful father in and i can just feel all your emotion and pride. In anycase i know you will give me a full picture, i do love listening to your beautiful stories, it's what makes you special to me here at Neo.

Thank you...Teddy

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

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

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.
.

Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
keeping in touch We have poets around the world and it is fun
to have real-time conversations with those that are up
all night or on the other side of the world.
.

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

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

so nicely done! Very visual, and I can almost smell the coffee on the tray--but wait--that's the aroma of the java my wife just served me. Anyhow, your write is brief but tells a story to my liking. Enjoyed mucho. Jerry

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

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

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
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When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

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.

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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