Henry
All right, Pa.
You want me to invent a better story?
Youngest son
grows up to become
the world's first famous
ukulele musician.
Deprived of violin and trumpet
by his older brothers,
he discovers a musical passion
all his own. Deeply regrets
missing out on a life of farm work.
How's that for invention?
The truth will be:
Youngest son inherits farm,
makes agriculture his ambition.
Finds fame
in cattle and crops.
His regrets? None.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016
Ukulele Life
ReplyDeleteYour ukulele life
is so different than hers –
a bow placed on the string
sings so clear and bright.
But yours? No long-song
rings into the night.
Each plucked note
lands thin and short;
your music,
a blur of the hand.
Mary Lee,
ReplyDeleteYour poem made me think about how some lives are violin lives and some are ukulele lives. Henry seems to have found his music in the daily pluck of the strings.
I love thinking about the difference between a violin life and a ukulele life. There's beauty in both!
DeleteThis one isn't real either???
ReplyDeleteIt feels so real. The youngest son. The violin and trumpet.
The agricultural ambitions. Feel very real to me.
And I love Steve's companion poem.
Typing at Kinko's again. Sorry if this turns out weird.
"Someday"
Yes, I know you told me
those light colored pants
would not wear well
they would show
every bit of dirt
and we wouldn't be able
to get the spots out
and then after I bought them
with the money I earned sweeping
the back room at Hoffsteter's Grocery
you said I should definitely not wear them
except on Easter Sunday
and yes, I know the $6 I spent
on the straw hat like Grandpa's
was ridiculous too
I should have put it in savings bonds
and now, here I am
standing out in the yard
in my unwashable
light colored pants
there's a mud streak
on the back of the left leg
and you are absolutely right
it probably won't come out
and I have only worn the hat once
to church on Easter Sunday
and all the guys made fun of it
and I was embarrassed,
and I probably shouldn't have bought it
I know I won't wear it very often
but there are some times
a guy's gotta consider
who he might wanna be
someday
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016
There is definitely an attempt at a sense of style in this, of someone trying to be something he's really not. But your poem captures the importance of trying on those personas when we're young and figuring our true selves out.
DeleteNope. Not true. I'm pretty sure that's my dad (I think the violin player was his brother Lee), and we still have that ukulele in a drawer in the basement.
ReplyDeleteThis machine
shrinks
songs;
Taking tiny
tumbles
of melody
and making them
smaller;
Listen, and
your feet
will dance
with us, as I
let loose
with the world
at my fingertips.
-Kevin