Poetic-Verses

244,418 poems read

LOGGING TALE

WHERE I CAME FROM IT USED TO BE A LOGGING TOWN
THIS WAS MANY YEARS AGO BEFORE I WAS EVER BORN
MY GRANDMA WAS A COOK FOR A LOGGING CAMP
SHE HAD TO START EARLY EVERY MORNING

MY GRANDPA WAS THE BOSS OF THE CAMP
THE LOGS WERE FLOATED DOWN THE RIVER TO THE LAKE
FROM THERE THEY WERE HAULED TO THE SAWMILL
AND CUT INTO LUMBER FOR BUILDINGS TO MAKE

THE TOWN WAS KNOWN FOR THE BIGGEST SAWDUST PILE
IN THE WORLD LAST I KNEW IT WAS STILL THERE
THEY NEVER SEEMED TO KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT
MAYBE THEY JUST DIDN'T CARE

MY GRANDMA HAD A SON TWELVE AND A BROTHER THE SAME AGE
THEY WERE TOLD DON'T GO TO THE RIVER TO PLAY
BUT GO THEY DID AND TOOK THE DOG ALONG
THEY NEVER RETURNED THAT DAY

AFTER LOOKING ALL OVER THEY WENT TO THE RIVER
AND THERE SAT THE DOG WITH THEIR COATS ON THE GROUND
THEY KNEW WHAT HAD HAPPENED THEY HAD GONE OUT ON THE LOGS
FELL IN COULDN'T SURFACE AND DROWNED

I SOMETIMES WONDER HOW MY GRANDMA DEALT
WITH ALL THE TRADEGIES IN THEIR LIVES
ALL THE TRADEGIES IN THEIR LIVES


Copyright Shirley Sasek
2010  



Comment On This Poem ---
LOGGING TALE