Poetry Friday: “Pirate Dreams”

This will be my last blog post of the month, as the family is packing up and heading off to my remote office starting tomorrow:

You can’t see my desk, chair, microphone, or reference books because they’re just out of frame, an hour away.

 

Yes, it’s that time of year again when we head off to York Beach, Maine – just over the border, but a million miles from home. In fact, I wasn’t able to post anything earlier this week because I’ve been so busy trying to get us ready for the trip while wrapping up a big radio commercial project I completed for the New Hampshire Association of Broadcasters and simultaneously writing query letters and a new picture book manuscript.

Believe me, if anyone needs a vacation around here, it’s me!

Cleo - 17 years old
Happy birthday, Cleopatra. You’ve earned your spot on the bed.

But before I get to today’s Poetry Friday offering, first things first: I need to share a photo of the lovely lady about whom I wrote last week. She just turned 17 years old, and I surprised a lot of folks with that last line.

Cleo has enjoyed a long life of mousing, playing, and generally keeping us all in line…and I worry if she’ll make it to 18. If she doesn’t, we’ll probably find her either on the bed or in the bathtub – her two favourite spots. (What is it with cats and bathrooms??)

Now, then, for today’s poem: something I wrote last year, shortly after we got back from our first trip to York Beach. Interestingly, the poem has less to do with York Beach and more to do with my own memories of visiting the local shoreline as a child two or three times each summer.

Pirate Dreams

The first seashell
I ever found
on my own
still whispers to me
when I hold it to my ear.

The pinwheel
Mom bought
at that candy shop
where you could watch them
make salt water taffy
all day, still spins
like a shiny new motor.

And above my head,
atop my bed, The Jolly Roger –
that faded black plastic flag
I won at the arcade
down by the boardwalk –
flies proudly.

…….It’s been a long time
…….since we’ve been to the beach,
…….but Dad says
…….this year might be the year.

…….Already
…….I can taste the salty air,
…….smell seaweed drying
…….under hazy sun,
…….and feel hot sand
.. ….slipping between toes.

Until then,
I’ll let my seashell –
the first one I ever found
on my own –
lull me to sleep
while my pinwheel motor
spins and spins
with The Jolly Roger
flying high.

© 2014, Matt Forrest Esenwine, all rights reserved

poetryfridaybutton-fulllYou’ll find all of today’s Poetry Friday links at A Year of Reading, so be sure to check out Mary Lee’s review of a new farm animal picture book, along with lots and lots of poetry! Enjoy the rest of your June…I’ll be back on Independence Day Eve, July 3rd!

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10 thoughts on “Poetry Friday: “Pirate Dreams”

  1. Okay, Matt, I admit that I did not know you were writing about your cat, Cleo, in last week’s poem. Marvelous stumper for me. Today’s, poem is so memory-filled starting with the line about the seashell whispering in your ear. It reminds me of being a little girl and visiting my grandmother who had a seashell from the Philippines. How I loved to pretend that I could hear the ocean roar. I can imagine how fabulous your summer retreat is. The photo sets the stage. While you are in Maine I hope you craft a perfect summer poem to accompany a photo for the summer gallery.

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    1. Thank you all for visiting and sharing your thoughts – it’s much appreciated! I wish I could pop by everyone’s blogs today, but I’m still behind in getting the house cleaned and clothes packed…I do hope you all have a nice weekend!

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  2. I’m not sure I got around to leaving a comment on your post last week, but I certainly enjoyed your sweet tribute and seeing her beautiful little face this week is icing on the cake. Enjoy your vacation! Find a seashell, eat some taffy, and buy one of those Jolly Roger flags for your precious boy.

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