Where They Swam as Children
Where they swam as childrenThe bay holds secrets.
A man once drowned while jet-skiing.
She said she could swim across if the tide was right.
Someone was seen walking on water.
A man once drowned while jet-skiing.
His body was found a day later.
Someone was seen walking on water.
The hurricane scattered boats everywhere.
His body was found a day later.
All the children took swimming lessons.
The hurricane scattered boats everywhere.
A fisherman reeled in a leather suitcase.
All the children took swimming lessons.
The instructor, they said, was a demigod.
A fisherman reeled in a leather suitcase.
The cedar house weathered the storm.
The instructor, they said, was a demigod.
We all remembered the smell of wind.
The cedar house weathered the storm.
Swimmers battled choppy waters.
We all remembered the smell of wind.
Waves washed bottles ashore.
Swimmers battled choppy water.
We wondered what we’d find.
Waves washed bottles ashore.
The bay holds an eon’s secrets.
The lighthouse is the starting point.
She said she could swim across if the tide was right.
Diane McManus
October 12, 2009
Notes on this poem: I wrote this in response to an assignment in Leonard Gontarek's poetry workshop (I was fortunate enough to attend two of the four sessions--his workshops are wonderful!). It was to write a pantoum (see http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5786 for more info--but basically, it's a form in which the first and third lines of one stanza become the second and fourth lines of the next). The subject was to be a place of significance. Rather than say which place, I wanted to open the door for others to remember their favorite bodies of water--yet also provide just enough detail to make it identifiable to those who have been there. Some of the details have been altered either due to my imperfect memory or purposely (artistic license).
posted by DPMcManus @ 7:58 AM
5 Comments:
This poem has a haunting, engaging pull to it and it was not simply the word "secret" even though I like that word. I felt as though I were part of the swim, part of the experience. I even like the title.
Writing poetry is difficult; it takes patience to find the perfect word.
I'll swim by again, side stroke; because that's the only one I can manage more than 5 minutes.
Thank you so much, Mary Jane!
You're the first to comment in quite a while, and I'm so grateful for your encouragement!
Nice poem! I'm surprised it doesn't appear on another blog we know.
This comment has been removed by the author.
Nice! Thank you for sharing.
Pat
Post a Comment
<< Home