Thursday, February 11, 2010

Clavey Territory

My sweet neat friend nAncY, the administrator of the Cunning Poets Society has issued a February challenge to all its members. Write a poem with the theme "homesick".

Since I am very challenged this week with school and tests I had to draw one out of the archives. I actually had a few false starts on something fresh but my mind kept crawling back to this prior work that I hadn't thought of in a long time.

Some of my best memories are of the many camping trips our family took when I was a kid. Dad was amazing at finding
the best never-see-a soul camping spot in the beautiful Sierras. California's not the place I grew up in anymore, that's what this poem is about.


(click photo to see the splendor)


CLAVEY TERRITORY

The Clavey was mine
I owned it as a child
spending weeks there
never seeing a passerby

I kept RC colas
icy
in its waters
baked potatoes in its soil
fished and hiked and strung
my hammock from one pine to another

I sat by the fire
surrounded by crisp air
hot faces and wieners
on a whittled sticks

Its meadows were whispy
wide and wild with flowers
the smell of caterpillars, fern
and manzanita

Only a generation from then
my Clavey is a piece of piƱata candy
scrambled after by those
I do not know

Now, pressing a piece of old
tent canvas against my face
I can smell our times together
It was my Clavey
it was mine.




I miss you dad.


Original version published by Blackmail Press in 2005
Photo is Albert Bierstadt's "Among the Sierra Nevada Mountains" (creative commons)


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10 comments:

  1. Nice one, Lorrie. I think I feel homesick just reading it.

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  2. Glynn - Seems I've been doing a lot of reminiscing lately...I think I need some sunshine!

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  3. Hhmm, homesick for childhood memories and childhood places.... well done Lorrie. I'll stick to my ponderings, poetry has never been my talent :)

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  4. Marja, I don't know if it's my talent either but I just love it :-)

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  5. so poignant. And I feel like I am there with you. Beautiful words.

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  6. Different place, different time, but that took me back to my youth and some special moments in such special places.

    Larry

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  7. Oh, this makes me feel so wistful. And the wee tiny last part...Why is it in the missing that we feel them most?

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  8. Nitewrit ~ Those days are gifts aren't they? Not everyone has them. I am so grateful!

    Laura ~ That 'wee' bit at the end wasn't part of the poem but I had to put it in. My dad died suddenly when he was a mere 42 years old and I do miss him so very much! Thanks for noticing him.. :-)

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  9. Wonderfully evocative. RC cola, baked potatoes, the hammock. . . all these recognizable details, in themselves just things but in this poem full of meaning.

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