I should go
I should go
I should go to visit my ninety-
one year old uncle and write his stories,
his life, his war, his wood in his blood poetry
that reflect a life lived well.
He will talk about fishing
for trout below Wolf Creek
dam or talk about the next time
the Braves play the Phillies. I should go.
I know.
I should write poetry with hidden rhyme
if I go Sunday or mid-week.
I should go and put to rest my wishing
to hear his voice. When I leave him, I must tell
him I love him, and turn to see
the look of surprise on his face. To hear the stories
he has not told me, I will be the line he
jigs in the cold trout stream of words. I will go.
13 thoughts on "I should go"
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I love this poem. Awesome buildup to the end.
Thanks, Gaby, I visited with him three days ago. He is a joy. He planned to go fishing the next day and I am sure he did and just as sure that he caught his limit of trout.
I love that last line so much – wonderful visuals
Deanna, it makes me happy to know that you liked that last line the way he will when I read it for him.
“I should go and put to rest my wishing
to hear his voice.”
Spectacular line!
What a stunning poem. Thank you for sharing it!
Thanks, H. A., for your stunning reply. I much appreciate it.
Super moving poem.
Linda, I must go and read your work. I’ve not done that yet. So many words here now it will take up most of one’s day just reading. I am pleased that you found this poem to be so moving. A writer never knows how his or her words will be accepted.
Thanks Rudy. Thanks for checking me out too. There’s so much to digest here, I’m just checking out a little bit at a time.
This reminds me of my father who was a major fisherman and is now struggling with his health.
So touching, thanks for sharing.
I thank you, Rachel, for this reply. I imagine your father to be like my uncle, a fisherman who could catch fish in the midst of all those who gravitate to his spot and still he catches fish when none of the others do. I wish the best for your father. I hope he overcomes his struggles soon enough to do fish.
“his life, his war, his wood in his blood poetry”
what a beautiful line.
Thank you, Kelly. He has been an artist with wood since he was young…