We spoke for hours that dusty cloud day,
Grandfather and I in a dented rowboat,
Fishing lines poised over a cool, still lake,
Trolling shallow.
Yet with water surrounding,
We caught by surprise, threads interweaving,
To something deeper, a gathering place.
Respect,
Understanding,
Love.
Your quadrille is a breath of fresh air, Jo-Anne! I love the image of a dented rowboat, trolling shallow and interweaving threads to create a treasured memory.
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Thanks so much, Kim. )
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I loved the opening stanza — I enjoy narratives. I got lost in the end however, I imagined your fishing lines interweaving as your life with your grandfather interweaved. I guess I was waiting for the story to reflect “respect, understanding, love” instead of being told it. Maybe I am mistaken, Great set up, though, for me. Maybe I missed a lot of symbolic nuance.
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Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Sabio. I know what you mean. It seemed a bit clipped but with only 44 words, I couldn’t find a way to round it out further.
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you captured a beautiful moment with so few words
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Thanks so much, Gina, for your kind words.
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Never been fishing, but I’ve come to think this is what it’s all about. Memories and togetherness. Nicely done😊
Pat
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Thanks, Pat. It’s surprising how conducive fishing is to sharing thoughts. Mind you, it’s been many years since I was myself in a row boat 🙂
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At least you’ve had the experience::))
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Very nice. I like the thought of being caught while trying to catch fish and being caught by respect, understanding and love.
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Thanks so much, Frank. You honed in on the exact thing I was trying to bring together in this wee poem! .
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I know that there is always more to fishing than the catch… this is just lovely.
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Thank you, Björn, for your kind words and encouragement. :))
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