HOLY HOLEY MOLEY

Need help tightening this poem.  Could delete S #3.  Local seniors love my "GROWING UP IN AR." poems.    Title is bland, too.  Dewell


     HOLY HOLE

 

Near jumped outna the family pew

when my pointin’ finger found

a hole in my right front pocket

just when Rev. Billy Bob was goin’

on ‘bout Daniel and them lions.

 

Recon now I know where

my Barlow went.  Been fussin’

morning, noon and night cause

a feller ain’t nearly a man iffin

he ain’t got no whittlin’ knife.

 

Last used it two worysome days

ago playing mumbly-peg on

the spittin’ bench out front of

Wash Winter’s gen’l store

with Jake and his Case knife.

 

Head hung low, toe in th dirt,

twistin’ buttons on my overalls,

rackin’ my brain, rattlin’ my

marbles a huntin’ my self sick

‘bout that Barlow Gramps gave me.

 

Retracin, every step, barn, school,

bed, creek… and there she be

stickin’ in a log where I gutted

a bullhead.  Bet that feller Daniel

found a hole, lived to tell ‘bout it.

 

   -Dewell H. Byrd

HOLY HOLE

Near jumped outna the family pew
when my pointin’ finger found
a hole in my right front pocket
just when Rev. Billy Bob was goin’
on ‘bout Daniel and them lions.

Recon now I know where
my Barlow went.  Been fussin’
morning, noon and night cause
a feller ain’t nearly a man iffin
he ain’t got no whittlin’ knife.

Last used it two worysome days
ago playing mumbly-peg on
the spittin’ bench out front of
Wash Winter’s gen’l store
with Jake and his Case knife.

Head hung low, toe in th dirt,
twistin’ buttons on my overalls,
rackin’ my brain, rattlin’ my
marbles a huntin’ my self sick
‘bout that Barlow Gramps gave me.

Retracin, every step, barn, school,
bed, creek… and there she be
stickin’ in a log where I gutted
a bullhead.  Bet that feller Daniel
found a hole, lived to tell ‘bout it.

-Dewell H. Byrd

Dewell, I can follow it.  I wish I could hear you read it!  This is one to hear read aloud.  Hole in the Pocket.  Okay.  Lost knife.  I don't need S 3 to follow it.  Narrative poem.  Fun poem.  Boys need their knives.  We all lose things so we get it.  How worrisome it is to lose things that are important to us.  I like that a 4th grader could understand it.  I was looking to see what holds it together.  Not the meter or rhyme.  Maybe the colloquialisms and the story.  It works for me.

Hi Dewell

I like the tone of the poem.  I am not familiar with "outna"  I hear "outta."

for me the fourth stanza is the trouble (though I am not fond of "worrysome").  The point of view seems to shift toward omniscient.  Is there any detail in that stanza that the reader must have?

I too would love to hear you read this.

Todd

I want outta, Reckon, worrysome-with 2 r's (I'm okay with worrysome), Retracin'.  

I agree with Todd, adios to stanza 4.  For a print version, I would consider deleting stanza 3 as well.

I disagree the title is bland, I think it's just right.

This poem is a performance piece waiting for an audience!

Thanks for your help, friends.  Where is Dennis?  This poem will be part of a monthly reading I give at THE MANOR... very well to do retires... I do a whole string of memory poems including love, church. kids and I finish with my ABE LINCOLN poem, a powerful piece... They think my poems are great.  I always give credit to my various critic friends.
Dewell