Good morning, all:
I have not entered a post, nor done justice to the poetry of Edgar A. Guest over the last months. What with back surgery and other personal demands, I fell down on the job (figuratively only).
I intend to be more diligent.
I couldn’t help think of one of Edgar's poems, named "BROTHERS ALL" as I reflected back on this year’s “Cool Guys” weekend. "Cool Guys" are a group of 10 to 15 middle age men who get away to spend a weekend together in the North woods of Wisconsin each year. It included three 10-12 year old sons and one 75 year old grandfather. What made me think of this is that the group is usually made up of some who started this thing 15 years ago and others who were newly invited and there for the first time.
Along with the guitar playing, sunning and swimming in the lake, telling stories around the fire and preparing and sharing meals at the large table in this warm and inviting cottage, I marveled at the ongoing process of making friends and getting to know each other.
Here is "Brothers All", one of Edgar's poems from a different era:
BROTHERS ALL
Under the toiler’s grimy shirt,
Under the sweat and the grease and dirt,
Under the rough outside you view,
Is a man who thinks and feels as you.
Go talk with him,
Go walk with him,
Sit down with him by a running stream,
Away from the things that are hissing steam,
Away from his bench,
His hammer and wrench,
And the grind of need,
And the sordid deed
And this you’ll find
As he bares his mind:
In the things that count when this life is through
He’s as tender and big and as good as you.
Meeting and getting to know each other individually and in groups went on all weekend. I watched friendships develop and relationships grow from coffee at 6:00AM (mainly me) to the guitar jam breaking up at 4:00AM (other people).
This poem that came to me, what with the inclusion of three young boys and their fathers, was "A BOY AND HIS DAD".
A good number of fishing trips and fish stories were mixed in with wiffle ball games and flying frisbys.
Here is another of Edgar's poems appropriate to the occasion:
A BOY AND HIS DAD
A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip ---
There is a glorious fellowship!
Father and son and the open sky
And the white clouds lazily drifting by,
And the laughing stream as it runs along
With the clicking reel like a martial song,
And the father teaching the youngster gay
How to land a fish in the sportsman’s way.
I fancy I hear them talking there
In an open boat, and the speech is fair;
And the boy is learning the ways of men
From the finest man in his youthful ken.
Kings, to the youngster, cannot compare
With the gentle father who’s with him there.
And the greatest mind of the human race
Not for one minute could take his place.
Which is happier, man or boy?
The soul of the father is steeped in joy,
For he’s finding out, to his heart’s delight,
That his son is fit for the future fight.
He is learning the glorious depths of him,
And the thoughts he thinks and his every whim,
And he shall discover, when night comes on,
How close he has grown to his little son.
A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip ---
Oh, I envy them, as I see them there
Under the sky in the open air,
For out of the old, old long-ago
Come the summer day that I used to know,
When I learned life’s truths from my father’s lips
As I shared the joy of his fishing-trips ---
Builders of life’s companionships!
Edgar's prolific production of poems means that he probably has composed at least one for every occasion. It also means that locating appropriate poems involves a good deal of research. This is however, enjoyable research. The down side is that at my age, I likely won't have the time to find and to read everything. All I can do is give it my best shot.
I'll be back as soon as I can.
Post a comment if you
I have not entered a post, nor done justice to the poetry of Edgar A. Guest over the last months. What with back surgery and other personal demands, I fell down on the job (figuratively only).
I intend to be more diligent.
I couldn’t help think of one of Edgar's poems, named "BROTHERS ALL" as I reflected back on this year’s “Cool Guys” weekend. "Cool Guys" are a group of 10 to 15 middle age men who get away to spend a weekend together in the North woods of Wisconsin each year. It included three 10-12 year old sons and one 75 year old grandfather. What made me think of this is that the group is usually made up of some who started this thing 15 years ago and others who were newly invited and there for the first time.
Along with the guitar playing, sunning and swimming in the lake, telling stories around the fire and preparing and sharing meals at the large table in this warm and inviting cottage, I marveled at the ongoing process of making friends and getting to know each other.
Here is "Brothers All", one of Edgar's poems from a different era:
BROTHERS ALL
Under the toiler’s grimy shirt,
Under the sweat and the grease and dirt,
Under the rough outside you view,
Is a man who thinks and feels as you.
Go talk with him,
Go walk with him,
Sit down with him by a running stream,
Away from the things that are hissing steam,
Away from his bench,
His hammer and wrench,
And the grind of need,
And the sordid deed
And this you’ll find
As he bares his mind:
In the things that count when this life is through
He’s as tender and big and as good as you.
Meeting and getting to know each other individually and in groups went on all weekend. I watched friendships develop and relationships grow from coffee at 6:00AM (mainly me) to the guitar jam breaking up at 4:00AM (other people).
This poem that came to me, what with the inclusion of three young boys and their fathers, was "A BOY AND HIS DAD".
A good number of fishing trips and fish stories were mixed in with wiffle ball games and flying frisbys.
Here is another of Edgar's poems appropriate to the occasion:
A BOY AND HIS DAD
A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip ---
There is a glorious fellowship!
Father and son and the open sky
And the white clouds lazily drifting by,
And the laughing stream as it runs along
With the clicking reel like a martial song,
And the father teaching the youngster gay
How to land a fish in the sportsman’s way.
I fancy I hear them talking there
In an open boat, and the speech is fair;
And the boy is learning the ways of men
From the finest man in his youthful ken.
Kings, to the youngster, cannot compare
With the gentle father who’s with him there.
And the greatest mind of the human race
Not for one minute could take his place.
Which is happier, man or boy?
The soul of the father is steeped in joy,
For he’s finding out, to his heart’s delight,
That his son is fit for the future fight.
He is learning the glorious depths of him,
And the thoughts he thinks and his every whim,
And he shall discover, when night comes on,
How close he has grown to his little son.
A boy and his dad on a fishing-trip ---
Oh, I envy them, as I see them there
Under the sky in the open air,
For out of the old, old long-ago
Come the summer day that I used to know,
When I learned life’s truths from my father’s lips
As I shared the joy of his fishing-trips ---
Builders of life’s companionships!
Edgar's prolific production of poems means that he probably has composed at least one for every occasion. It also means that locating appropriate poems involves a good deal of research. This is however, enjoyable research. The down side is that at my age, I likely won't have the time to find and to read everything. All I can do is give it my best shot.
I'll be back as soon as I can.
Post a comment if you
posted by GramptaGrin at 8:21 AM
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