Dad

This was written 4 years ago as a sort of dialogue. When I learned about Haibun from Tom, I thought it worth a try. This is it. Please give me hard criticism. I want to get it right.

 

Dad

 

 

If you’re a good boy

Maybe we’ll go to Benllech;

So behave yourself.

 

So, the boy did and they arrived on Anglesey on a day when the sea shuffled and riffled its way through weed and pebble, while rock pools formed and children fished for shrimps in the sun under a blue, blue sky.

 

Shining clouds drifted

On a golden day over

Green sea flecked with white

 

Clouds were indeed white, the day blue and gold and the sea dappled turquoise, shaded green, a vast prairie, galloped by white seahorses with curling, crested manes. The boy was happy; this was his first holiday by the sea and the beach called, seeming to rush up to meet the house. The giant sea, fed by a small stream, which twittered like a singing bird through the pebbles of the garden.

 

Love of place was born

Nowhere else would do – ever,

Childlike innocence.

 

In the pools swam small crabs and many odd creatures; rather than play with a beach-ball or run races, father and son trod the rocks, delved the pools and netted unfortunate shrimps. They went up the lane for milk in a jug with a net over it to defeat the flies, watched butter being churned by hand in a barrel with a handle, shared the boy’s very first rice crispies and sat by the spring in the garden. Such were the memories of Benllech,

 

Snap, crackle and pop

Sparkling sound through pouring milk

Ear cocked; child enthralled.

 

At the back of the house, where the spring rose bubbling from the earth and rock, they threw the shrimps they’d caught into the springthen raced to the beach hoping to see them emerge; of course, they never did.

 

Runs like a deer, Peg,

Watching him fly across fields

Father, mother, pride!

 

As the boy grew, the family survived war, food rationing, years of austerity, the death of his sister, tragically young, yet the parents retained their sense of fun. The boy passed examination and went to grammar school – the best in his city:

 

‘Vivat haec sodolitas’

Rang out the School Song;

The boy sang with pride

 

‘Come on little man, rub my head’. The lad at ten fondled his dozing Dad’s bald head as he dozed in the chair. Once he drew indelible curls all over it and let him go to the shops.

 

Laughing shoppers cheered,

‘Frank’s lad’s been at it again,

wait ‘til he gets home!’

 

The father saw the decoration in the mirror behind Ted the butcher’s counter. Much later, Ted told me that he just laughed, said ‘The little bugger’ and borrowed Ted’s cap. At home, The boy cowered in the garden behind a bush until he heard the chinking laughter of his father coming home.

 

‘Leave it be Peg – he’s a joker – no harm in that.’   He wore a cap for a week. Father and son learned together the indelibility of indelible pencil.

 

They’d go out on the motorbike – FKD 704, the lad remembers. How he loved the pillion, arms round his dad, banking at the bends and corners. Often in later life, riding his own machine, he imagined his father’s arms around him

 

‘Good lad Peg – corners like a racer.’

 

In the garden shed

Father, son, grind valves together

Tune the bike’s engine.

 

The son never turned a nut without hearing his father’s voice ‘Go on son! Another half turn’, neither did he grind a valve without hearing ‘A bit more fine paste and another five minutes, son and keep the paste off the valve guides!’

 

‘And he can use a spanner too, boasted the father. ‘And he’s learning French’. 

 

The father only lived another two years, while the still grieving boy now has eighteen years more than did his father.

 

Dear Dad, now there’s only me left, talking to myself.

 

Take the happy moments and the sad

Remember all the precious times,

Brightestdays and shadowed, lived

In the joy of your love,

Your warmth and kindness;

Work days; fun days,

Dark days and

Sun days –

Dad.

 

 

                                                            John L. Berry, 28 June 2008.

Author's Note

Very emotional for me but I have tried to keep its atmosphere one of happiness and joyful memory. I want it right so hard straight critique please.

Reviews

[Thomas James Martin]

Hi John,

Been meaning to look over some more of your work. Glad to see your trying the Haibun form. First, I did enjoy the wonderful details and experiences with your Dad. Sometimes the arbiters of form can almost create a religion out the way it is handled. That said, I suppose any literature must have certain standards, even free verse needs metaphors, a sense of timing, repetition and of course a personal or interesting slant.
As for Haibun I am gradually working more and more in the form, as it suits my style and what I have to say: Usually, I am not verbose and never recovered from the Imagist movement and have leanings toward Buddhism and other Eastern religions.

I suggest you read some of the writing in Contemporary Haibun Online (contemporaryhaibunonline.com) to let you see how others are handling the form. Of course, I am prejudiced as they recently published three of the Haibun that I have posted here. Usually Haibun are shorter than yours (though I believe someone actually wrote a novel using the form). Even my "Diary of a Vision Quest" is much longer than usual, and by the way was my first use of the form.

It helps to have written Haiku for a while also, and the Haiku should not just be a three sentence poem. Usually, the Haiku is used judiciously throughout a Haibun piece as a kind of inner monologue that often adds a mystical note, even an "off the wall" observation that relates even vaguely to the main theme.

Anyway, I do not usually write this much in a review, but I really like you and your work.

Again, this is not really criticism--just some thoughts--probably inadequate on the form.

Tom

[Adela Muresan]

A truly moving piece.
I believe this is a very well written story-poem, and I am glad to have read it.

Thank you for posting it in my ,,Simple things,, contest.

A.M.

[~amanda~]

i really enjoyed reading this piece! it reminds me of a book by Roald Dahl called "boy" about his childhood in norway. the last line was so poignant i was entranced the whole way through, and at the end was totally blown away! great story... thank you for sharing!

[Lily1111]

I enjoyed reading the glimpses of the past and happy memories with your father. I do not know enough about the Halibun form to be able to critique, but I think this poem might have more of an impact if it were condensed.

As to the Haiku, I am only now learning this form and one thing I have learned is not to create a sentence and break it into three lines (thanks to someone's critique) I learned it was important that the last line represent a "sudden illumination". The most valuable thing I learned about Haiku was that it is not as easy to write as some people make it look.

In any event, I enjoyed the sentiment expressed in these fond memories.