we walked in the tall corn,
flapping waves of grain
like those tv ads at 3 am
when channel six goes off the air,
and I surely would have been lost
if it weren't for granddaddy's
knowing footprints
to place my little boots inside.
He told me stories hour upon hour,
sang Mississippi John Hurt songs
as we slipped in and out of the stalks,
Blue Harvest Moon,
Oh Mary Don't You Weep,
Cow Hooking Blues, and he talked
like he sang, a blue streak,
his soft raspy voice flew over the fields
like jet black Magpies in July.
I told him I was scared 'cause
I couldn't see where I was going,
so he picked me up in his farmer arms
kept on awalkin', whispering all along to me,
"When fear gets to playin' with your mind boy
just remember that fear ain't nuthin' but a dream,
Love is the real thing, and love'll make
a mountain cat turn tail, run back inside
his grotto--Hell, son- a bad man sooner
wrassle a pack of coyotes than mess with
a man with love in his heart.
You'll be alright boy,
keep the truth on your tongue
and a song in your heart,
and you'll always find your way."
The Way Out
- Lightning Rod
- Posts: 5211
- Joined: August 15th, 2004, 6:57 pm
- Location: between my ears
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- hester_prynne
- Posts: 2363
- Joined: June 26th, 2006, 12:35 am
- Location: Seattle, Washington
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This poem is heartfelt, and radiates truth. You can feel it in the recalled wisdom and strong images, nearly incongruent at times. I never had such a close relationship with either of my grandfathers, or even my father. And you tackle that paradox of love and conflict.. 'a bad man sooner wrassle a pack of coyotes than mess with a man with love in his heart.'
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