Downturn

On the flaking swing, aching fingers pulling
At the stubborn laces of his boots,
The smells of dust and dirt and oil
Emanating from him as they always do
Before he showers them away in steam
Of his own making soon to come
And smiling for the boy while at his task,
The pulling off of boots and socks,

Tousling his hair
With yellow smile, he's softly saying
Layoffs came today;
Lots of time for fishing, boy.

SF -

Damn good fare, this. Speaks to the time and times of man under money's gun. Have a real strong sense of where this poem goes because of so many troublous times here in the coalfields of Appalachia. Have never given poems with an economic theme much thought - this one might prompt me to a second glance.

The sense of resignation, followed by the promice of a fishing trip with a beloved child, is as sturdy a balance as one could possibly make given the theme and the poem's quiet, telling brevity. Has blood heat that knows to keep a coat handy given the scheme of things. And that a can of worms is just what the order doctors.

Good one, SF, good one.

Best to you and yours.

Carpe Verve

Doug

Soccerfreak, I see that you too are experimenting with one long sentence, and yours is easier to grasp than Goldensohn’s was. But it took m a couple of days to figure out that “flaking swing” refers to a tree swing. I think a few things need to be fleshed out. Here’s my take on it –

“Gramps, can we go fishing now?”
The man and boy have been swinging
Into the leaves of the maple tree for a long time.
The man slowly comes back to earth.

On the flaking swing, aching fingers pulling
At the stubborn laces of his boots,
The smells of dust and dirt and oil
Emanating from him as they always do

Before he showers them away in steam
From the forgiving water soon to come,
He smiles at the scowling boy while
Pulling off his boots and says

To no one in particular just
beyond the boy’s shoulder,
“Layoffs came today;
Lots of time for fishing, boy.”

Hi, soccerfreak, How nice to see you back! I didn't guess from the title that the 'downturn' was going to be economic. I like what you've done with the all of the ''-ings" -- their repetition weaves throughout the poem, creating some internal rhymes (flaking, aching, making). But there were a couple of places where things got a little unclear (steam of his own making?) and the line where he pats his son's head might work better if his hair was tousled with a grease-stained hand rather than a yellow smile ... or if a period was inserted after the word "hair," which would clarify intent. You've built in a surprise ending, since the poem seems to be about a father coming home from work as he does every day until the word 'layoffs.' Thank you, too, for the glass-half-full optimism in that last line. (Or was it irony?)

Thank you, sir, for the generous words, which seem to me to be spot-on: the reference to Appalachia resonates.

I look forward to your own efforts with respect to the subject.

Take care,

Joe

Thank you for the response Mary Ann (I missed you too, by the way, in response to a previous comment by you :)).

In my mind, the swing, the flaking porch, is a porch swing. Surely, there in Baltimore, you are not so far north that porch swings do not exist? (By the way, Baltimore is a favorite town of mine, owing to several days spent there in the spring of 1980, wherein I enjoyed a poetry scene I had not previously known existed outside of university settings and also played the proprietor's ancient red Gibson acoustic guitar for most of a night at a delightful little place called Peabody's Bookstore. I don't know if you know of it, or even if it still exists, but at that time the front was a bookstore, as its name implies, while, in the back there were maybe eight or 10 or 12 tables dressed in red and white checked tablecloth, a piano (accompanied by a ragtime pianist the night I went, a kind man who gave way to my limited abilities when the customers urged), and an atmosphere that I have not enjoyed since.)

In any event, thank you for the response. I prefer mine, as you might expect. Yours takes the spotlight off of dad and puts it on the boy, or so it seems to me, and then has dad seem to shirk his responsibility to the boy, while my intent, as Bratsche seems to get, is the opposite.

Again, thank you for your insight, which is always greatly appreciated.

Take care,

Joe

It is good to be back, IT!

Thank you for the response and for the kind words.

I note that both you and Mary Ann have issues with ambiguities, albeit in different areas.

Re the 'steam', Mary Ann clearly got it, that it was the shower to come. With respect to the yellow smile tousling the hair, I see your point from a grammatical perspective, along with Mary Ann's implicit one, in her response, that I should turn dad's response into a quote.

As for half-empty/half-full, I am glad, frankly, that this is open for interpretation. It means that I am not so much preaching as I think I have in the past.

Take care, my friend,

Joe

Peabody's Bookstore

Soccerfreak, its real name was (alas, it is gone) the Peabody Bookstore and Beer Stube. It was, indeed, one of a kind, and when the proprietor (also one of a kind) died, the place folded. I had my very first (but far from my last) hot run toddy there.

I'm proud to say Baltimore still has a few quirky places like that. (The Balto suburbs are the birthplace of John Waters, don't forget.)

Yours takes the spotlight off of dad and puts it on the boy, or so it seems to me, and then has dad seem to shirk his responsibility to the boy, while my intent, as Bratsche seems to get, is the opposite.

I was trying to suggest that the two had been swinging for a long time, mostly because the dad now had lots of time on his hands and because the swinging allowed him a way to escape from the real world.

I meant to show he wasn't shirking his responsibility to his son so much as putting it off.

hola sf/joe,

Gosh, the first and truest word that comes to mind is 'poignant' - a quietly pulling poignancy - that you've captured here in such a lovely manner ...

The way I read it, he isn't necessarily speaking the last two lines - rather, they're just as likely the thoughts in his head which the tousling of the boy's hair* means to impart ... without words ...

Very nice, Joe,

z

* interesting realization about "tousle" ... While technically "his hair" might mean the narrator's own here, to my mind, we don't ever "tousle" our own hair, only someone else's (well, now that i'm thinking about it ... for the first time - at least I think I personally limit "tousle" in this way) - so it's that verb choice as much as anything that gave me a clear sense of this one, singular point of physical contact between them - which contributed, for me, to the sense of poignancy...