A Memory

(1)
Round like Santa
and dark like
Black Beard
he towered above me.

The fish
weren't biting
in the trees
or the water.

We packed the minnows
with bologna and
cheese sandwiches
and walked

past a waddle of ducks and
long grass, swishing
at water's edge.
The pole in my right hand
forgotten
and a memory
of my left hand
lost in his.
************************************************************
(2)
His laugh revealed his plumpness,
his smile, beneath his black beard.
And I, in his shade, disappeared,
a fragment of his awesomeness.
I looked up and revered.

And proving their elusiveness,
as my line whizzed and veered
back, up and up...captured,
kidnapped by oaken leafiness,
the fish, from their grainy seats, sneered.

Packing the bait, in its freshness,
beside bologna and cheese, smeared
stale with mustard, dried bread,
we left the fish to their laziness
to walk the open path ahead.

Ducklings waddled past; life's newness.
Gentle waves lapped and spread,
long grass rose and fell and swished.
The fishing pole meant nothing, (LESS!)
as my hand, in his, memorized.







The first poem was an in class assignment (10 minutes was allowed!). We had to write a free verse poem, 20-25 lines, 4 stanzas, about our Dad. The second half of our assignment was to take the poem home and rewrite it in formal verse, 4 stanzas, abbab rhyme scheme (true or slant) and 6-8 syllables per line, thus the second poem here. Which do you think is the better poem?