The Captive, Faery Award ~ Ballad (Father's Day Tribute) Options

[Mary Boren]

Happy Day to All Ye Devoted Dads. This is one of my first poetic efforts, presented as a Father's Day tribute in 1990. It's not the best poem I've ever offered, but it was most assuredly the best received gift. I tended to go on and on in my early poems, so feel free to take the bushwhackers to it.


. .

The Captive

We crouched upon the forest floor
in rapt anticipation.
Comrades and conspirators,
we manned our secret station.

The object of our scrutiny
was cleverly disguised:
a simple trap my Daddy had
ingeniously devised.

A small round metal washpan
was propped up like a lid
upon a stick from which a string
led back to where we hid.

Beneath the pan, some bread crumbs
were scattered temptingly
to lure some trusting creature
into captivity.

A little bright-eyed chipmunk
came sniffing at the bait.
My fingers trembled eagerly
but Daddy whispered, "Wait."�

Suspended in the stillness
of the mountains' magic sway,
I held my breath as, silently,
we watched our timid prey.

At last the chipmunk ventured in;
the moment had arrived!
I pulled the string and sprung the trap
so cunningly contrived.

I bolted up. "We got him!"
I squealed in pure delight,
"ll take him home to be my pet.
He'll sleep with me at night!"�

Would Daddy spoil my moment
with a bossy "No, you can't?"
The subtle way he handled me
took on a different slant.

He put his arm around me
and, in a gentle voice,
began to talk about some things
that might affect my choice.

That morning at the chipmunk home
this scene might have occurred,
and here's the conversation
we might have overheard:

"Oh, Mother, what a lovely day!
May I go in the woods and play?
A little girl named Mary Kay
is camping there along the way.
I want to visit her to say
I'm glad she came and hope she'll stay.
Your fondest wish I will obey,
but please, please Mother, say I may."�

"Now, son, I told you long ago,
you've got to learn to take it slow
when meeting strangers -- you don't know
if you've encountered friend or foe.
But Mary Kay sounds nice, and so
I guess it's all right if you go.
Don't give me cause for worry, though.
Be home before the sun is low."

He then described the mother
as she stood out by the gate
to call her kids to supper,
but the youngest one was late.

And even at that moment,
unaware of what we'd done,
the frantic chipmunk mother
would be searching for her son.

Before he got the last words out
I felt so mean and low,
with teardrops streaming down my face
I hollered, "LET HIM GO!"

* * *

As we released our little friend,
I'm sure my dad suppressed a grin.
The maestro knew that, once again,
he'd played me like a violin.

I thank the Lord for giving me
a father wise enough to see
the greatest gifts will ever be
those offered voluntarily.

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Hi Mary,

I love this poem! In its very simplicity the love and beauty are found! You've shown the closeness of the relationship between father and child, carrying it through to the very end. He handled this situation with delicate finesse! Your imagery is wonderful, making such a precious scene to imagine. The meter is smooth and pleasant for the most part, there was only a couple of spots that I stumbled over.

A few thoughts for you to ponder... use or lose!

Cathy

We crouched upon the forest floor
in rapt anticipation.
Comrades and conspirators,
we manned our secret station.

Right from the beginning you show the close relationship between father and daughter! Lovely way to start~

A small round metal washpan
was propped up like a lid
upon a stick from which a string
led back to where we hid.

In this verse line 2 gave me a bit of a stumble. It may just be the way I'm reading it but what about

'A small round metal washpan
that we propped up like a lid OR we had propped up like a lid

A little bright-eyed chipmunk
came sniffing at the bait.
My fingers trembled eagerly
but Daddy whispered, "Wait."�

I can just see their two heads leaning close together while they whisper so as not to frighten the chipmunk! LOL

He put his arm around me
and, in a gentle voice,
began to talk about some things
that might affect my choice.

I love this verse and the way the father chose to handle the situation! Nice addition to further describe their relationship.

That morning at the chipmunk home
this scene might have occurred,
and here's the conversation
we might have overheard:

Here the last line felt too short to me. Maybe 'that we might have overheard:'?

"Oh, Mother, what a lovely day!
May I go in the woods and play? 'to play'?

* * *

As we released our little friend,
I'm sure my dad suppressed a grin.
The maestro knew that, once again,
he'd played me like a violin.

I thank the Lord for giving me
a father wise enough to see
the greatest gifts will ever be
those offered voluntarily.

Perfect ending and a lovely tribute to fathers~

Thanks for sharing Mary!
Cathy

[Merlin]

Well done Mary, on multiple counts.
The fact that you're bold enuff to post one of your first should be applauded. I've buried many of mine, but several made it into the Lyre - and it probably shows.

Thanks for recognizing Fathers Day. It's somewhat of a "me too" day, since there was a Mothers Day and somebody probably thought that Dads should have one too.

I thought L3 in V1 could have an "As" to begin, to keep metrical flow especially so early in.
As comrades and conspirators,

Now, I've seen a few squirrely Mary Kays, but not too many chipmunks named such. Is there a reason for choosing that name for a chippy?

Merlin

For our downunder friends who may not know what a chipmunk looks like >>>

CLICK HERE

For anyone at all who doesn't know what a chippy looks like >>>

CLICK HERE

[heartsong7]

Happy Day to All Ye Devoted Dads. This is one of my first poetic efforts, presented as a Father's Day tribute in 1990. It's not the best poem I've ever offered, but it was most assuredly the best received gift. I tended to go on and on in my early poems, so feel free to take the bushwhackers to it.
Greetings Mary.
A stormy day leaves time for play, so here goes:
This is a delightful tribute to the day. What a wise and wonderful daddy you portray.
Nitwise, I see only a few meter issues and am wondering why you rhyme all the lines in the last 2 stanzas? I like the little chipmunks' song (mom and son). The rhyme scheme there seems so fitting to the chattery way I would imagine for chipmunk-speak.
aside to Merlin:
I believe that Mary Kay is the girl not the chipmunk.

The Captive

We crouched upon the forest floor
in rapt anticipation.
(As)comrades and conspirators,
we manned our secret station.

The object of our scrutiny
was cleverly disguised:
a simple trap my Daddy had
ingeniously devised.

A small round metal washpan (washing pan for meter's sake?)
was propped up like a lid
upon a stick from which a string
led back to where we hid.

Beneath the pan, some bread crumbs (off meter to my ear. maybe, "crusty crumbs"?
were scattered temptingly
to lure some trusting creature (off meter)
into captivity.

A little bright-eyed chipmunk (Off meter...maybe bushy-tailed? if chipmunks have bushy tails.)

came sniffing at the bait.
My fingers trembled eagerly
but Daddy whispered, "Wait."�

Suspended in the stillness of
the mountains' magic sway,
I held my breath as, silently,
we watched our timid prey.

At last the chipmunk ventured in;
the moment had arrived!
I pulled the string and sprung the trap
so cunningly contrived.

I bolted up. "We got him, Dad!"
I squealed in pure delight,
"ll take him home to be my pet.
He'll sleep with me at night!"�

Would Daddy spoil my moment with
a bossy "No, you can't?"
The subtle way he handled me
took on a different slant.

He put his arm around me and
in a gentle voice, ( with patient-daddy voice)
began to talk about some things
that might affect my choice.

That morning at the chipmunk home
this scene (could) have occurred,
and here's the conversation (that)
we might have overheard:

"Oh, Mother, what a lovely day!
May I go in the woods and play?
A little girl named Mary Kay
is camping there along the way.
I want to visit her to say
I'm glad she came and hope she'll stay.
Your fondest wish I will obey,
but please, please Mother, say I may."�

"Now, son, I told you long ago,
you've got to learn to take it slow
when meeting strangers -- you don't know
if you've encountered friend or foe.
But Mary Kay sounds nice, and so
I guess it's all right if you go.
Don't give me cause for worry, though.
Be home before the sun is low."

He then described the mother (as)
she stood out by the gate
to call her kids to supper, (but)
the youngest one was late.

And even at that moment, And even then we're unaware
unaware of what we'd done, of damage we have done
the frantic chipmunk mother A frantic chipmunk mother would
would be searching for her son. be searching for her son.

Before he got the last words out
I felt so mean and low,
with teardrops streaming down my face
I hollered, "LET HIM GO!"

* * *

As we released our little friend,
my dad suppressed a grin.
The maestro knew that, once again,
he'd played me like a violin.

I thank the Lord for giving me
a father wise enough to see
the greatest gifts will ever be
those offered voluntarily.
Looks like you intend these stanzas to change line lengths and rhyme scheme.

hope there's something helpful here.

enjoyed,
Sue

[Mary Boren]

Thanks, Cathy, I'm glad you enjoyed reading this. Now multiply that by a hundred and you can imagine how much I enjoyed writing it for him. Now that I recall, it was Christmas, but with a dad like mine every day is Father's Day. And my mom is equally cherished. This is not the kind of poem I stopped writing once sonnet fever struck, which she finds regrettable. I do too, in many ways, and have been trying to find my way back.

Thanks for the pics, Merlin. Yes, that's just how he looked. Now the chippy ... hmm, that's a whole other story. Tsk.

Sue, thanks for taking the time for a thorough going-over. Y'know, it's interesting, but the meter issues escaped me. For the first time I'm wondering if my early poems displayed a natural tendency toward accentual rhythm. Lordy, lordy.

Wish I had more time to catch up on reading and commenting here this morning. It's a happening place.

Mary

[Michelle]

Dang it, Mary, I'm sitting here blubbering. Your poem really yanked on my heartstrings. After I dry my eyes, I'll have another go.

my best to you,

Michelle

[AMETHYST]

Oh Mary I am so glad you brought this over~

I remember the first time I read this, I pretty much had the same reaction as Michelle. The warmth, the detail, the tenderness and wisdoms rages within the poem. What I loved most was the lesson given from father to daughter, was a life lesson on a much larger scale than the chipmunk. A lesson to put ourselves into someone else's shoes before we act.

I believe, although I might be mistaken, but the last two stanza's weren't apart of the poem when I read it, did you recently add to it? ... They are wonderful additions.

Anyway ... I've printed this out and will return tommorow. I have company in from New York ... My cousin who I haven't seen since my mother's Funeral. I have missed her so much ... Thank you for this poem. It is a memory, a moment that I wish we all could have experienced, and yet - we have through your words and wonderful detail. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!


Hugs, Liz

[jgdittier]

Dear Mary,
Only two or three years ago grandson Trevor and I olayed this game over and over. In our case, my hand was the prey ans rarely I captured the peanut bait.
Tomorrow our family leaves for our week at camp in Maine and we'll be feeding the friendly chippies.
Cheers to all, ron jgd

[jgdittier]

Dear Mary,
This was a learning experience for me. No, not the presentation of this precious moment
but its simplicity and the empathy it evokes in the reader. However you handled the metre, how you justified the two later quatrains, neither an annotated cadence nor additional rhyming could fashion this into a more penetrating piece. Here's a poem of such enormous impact that it could never be called "light verse". Over the years you've learned much of the theory of poetry writing, but this piece proves you had the right stuff from the start.
In September I'm to be a non-hunting member of a moose hunting group in Maine. I'll bring this piece to read to the hunters the night before, expecting some serious ribbing. However, even from the most committed hunter, I think the laser in this piece will reach its target!
Cheers, Ron jgd

[Mary Boren]

Awww, Michelle, I'd say I'm sorry it made you cry, but I'm not. Tears are good for the soul. Thanks for reading and enjoying.

Liz, I'm glad you like it -- didn't know you had ever seen it before. In the original version, there were five or six concluding aaaa quatrains that pretty much repeated the same sentiment. I've tried and tried to see a way to shorten the rest. It might smooth out the meter to present it in couplets, like I did with Flowers for Bubba ...

We crouched upon the forest floor in rapt anticipation.
Comrades and conspirators, we manned our secret station.
The object of our scrutiny was cleverly disguised:
a simple trap my Daddy had ingeniously devised.

... what think you? Or maybe it's just what it wants to be and I should leave it alone.

Ron, what a perfectly wonderful compliment. Thank you! I'm getting an 8 x 10 image of the moose-hunters' reaction to your reading. Oh, my, what a brave man you are. Enjoy your trip and come back refreshed, if you survive it.

Mary

[AMETHYST]

Hi Mary,

Sorry about the delay but I have done some thinking on this off line and have finally found a moment to myself to offer it up. As I already mentioned, I love this poem. Yes... I read it back when we first met and you offered me access into your site where there were some of the most breathtaking poetry I have ever read. I remember going back to read this one several times. Only now, I thought it seemed differnt in Form somehow or lengthier than I remembered it.

Here's some of my thoughts... I hope something helps. Me personally, I don't think it is in need of anything, however I have left some points to reconsider only for a change up, but nothing that is absolute.


Hugs, Liz

The Captive

We crouched upon the forest floor
in rapt anticipation.
Comrades and conspirators,
we manned our secret station.

This is a wonderfully lifelike and detailed opening, where as it sets up the reader with an adventurous tone. This added a tinge of mystery, there is also whispered excitement in the narrators voice and the scene -
I truly thought the word choices were brilliant... especially in L3 the contrast between comrades and conspirators is thought provoking. I will give a 2nd cheer for 'As comrades and conspirators" ...

Love it. No other nits here.

The object of our scrutiny
was cleverly disguised:
a simple trap my Daddy had
ingeniously devised.

Again, not a nit. This is smooth as butter. Also, I think the word choices are commendable. A nice way to lead the reader into the setting and to introduce the narrator and the subjects.

A small round metal washpan
was propped up like a lid
upon a stick from which a string
led back to where we hid.

I like the suggestion of 'washing pan' to smooth out the glitch I felt in meter. L3 might flow easier as ...
atop a stick from which a string. or maybe against or even ... by a thin stick from which a string' ...

Beneath the pan, some bread crumbs
were scattered temptingly
to lure some trusting creature
into captivity.

L1; perhaps ... Beneath the pan, a bunch of crumbs
were scattered temptingly
to lure some trusting creature
into captivity.

A little bright-eyed chipmunk
came sniffing at the bait.
My fingers trembled eagerly
but Daddy whispered, "Wait."

Perhaps ...

A bright-eyed cuddly chipmunk babe
came sniffing at the bait.
My fingers trembled eagerly

Suspended in the stillness
of the mountains' magic sway,
I held my breath as, silently,
we watched our timid prey.

L1,

Suspended in the sihouette
of mountains' magic sway,
I held my breath as, silently,
we watched our prey.

At last the chipmunk ventured in;
the moment had arrived!
I pulled the string and sprung the trap
so cunningly contrived.

I keep wanting to read critter somewhere. Perhaps in the earlier stanza ... A bright-eyed, cuddley critter babe. Or perhaps ... At last the critter ventured in;

The rest is picture perfect, not a nit...

I bolted up. "We got him!"
I squealed in pure delight,
"ll take him home to be my pet.
He'll sleep with me at night!"

What a wonderful expression of youthful innocence. This is one of my favorite stanzas in the poem.

Would Daddy spoil my moment
with a bossy "No, you can't?"
The subtle way he handled me
took on a different slant.

Would Daddy now spoil my moment
with a bossy "No, you can't?"

He put his arm around me
and, in a gentle voice,
began to talk about some things
that might affect my choice.

I love this stanza. Maaaah!



I'll be back with some more indepth response to these final stanzas...

Hugs, Liz

This post has been edited by AMETHYST: Jul 1 07, 08:47

[Guest_Kathy_*]

Delicious, Mary. I like that little girl a lot, and her father

[JustDaniel]

Well, Mary Kay...

you've done well to squirrel this one away. There ain't no bushwhackin' ta be had from this observer. There is a nice flow to this, and it's filled with insight, tenderness, wisdom and joy. It's a precious gift to go along with the precious gift you received. It's a wonderful way to pass it on.

deLightingly, Daniel

[AMETHYST]

Ok Returning for those final stanza's - They are the juice of the poem, the warmth, the blood of our humanity flowing.

Let me get right to it then ...

That morning at the chipmunk home
this scene might have occurred,
and here's the conversation
we might have overheard:

I had a couple of suggestive notations on paper, but now they don't seem as smooth as what you have already. Maybe ...

Pretend, by dawn at the chipmunk home
this scene might have occurred,

or

That morning at the chipmunk home
this scene might have occurred,
imagine their conversation
that we might have overheard;

"Oh, Mother, what a lovely day!
May I go in the woods and play?
A little girl named Mary Kay
is camping there along the way.
I want to visit her to say
I'm glad she came and hope she'll stay.
Your fondest wish I will obey,
but please, please Mother, say I may."

I liked the change in format and rhyme scheme here, emphasizing the chipmunk's imagined way of speaking. Showing the contrast between the narrators dialog and the chipmunks. not a nit from me here.

"Now, son, I told you long ago,
you've got to learn to take it slow
when meeting strangers -- you don't know
if you've encountered friend or foe.
But Mary Kay sounds nice, and so
I guess it's all right if you go.
Don't give me cause for worry, though.
Be home before the sun is low."

L5, I felt 'nice' sounded weak. Perhaps 'But Mary Kay sounds sweet, and so'

He then described the mother
as she stood out by the gate
to call her kids to supper,
but the youngest one was late.

I would be more indicative in L1 of the 'he' perhaps ...

Then Daddy described the mother
as she stood out by the gate
to call her kids in for supper
but the youngest one was late.

And even at that moment,
unaware of what we'd done,
the frantic chipmunk mother
would be searching for her son.

I love this stanza.

Before he got the last words out
I felt so mean and low,
with teardrops streaming down my face
I hollered, "LET HIM GO!"

NOT A NIT! Excellent ending stanza.

[Guest_Rosemerta_*]

Greetings, Nada... or do you prefer Mary?

I believe this is the first work of yours that I've read. If so then a belated welcome to I've only been able to visit in spurts so don't keep up on everyone as I should.

I notice you've already gotten a ton of great advice on this piece so I'll only comment on my overall reaction. I agree with the others that this is a delightful piece. It is more than just charming and brings home that 'feel good' momment between father and child. I enjoyed the humor and you had some really good visuals going on.

You won't find me giving complaint on a long poem that tells such a good story. I've been teased that I write 'epic' poems before. I find that some don't have the patience for them, others think more is said than is needed, and then there are those who love reading them as much as I like writing them. So, rock on and give us more of these delightful tales in verse.

~~Jackie

[JustDaniel]

Oh... and I forgot to mention... June 17th, the day you posted this, was not only a special Fathers' Day for me and my four children and three grandsons, but it was Eileen's and my 40th anniversary.

deLighting in sharing, however late, Daniel

[Michelle]

Hey again Mary,

I'm not sure if you are going to edit or not, but it makes no difference to me. This poem has prompted more emotion from me than any poems have in a long, long time. I'm not sure how, or if I can, but I want to nominate this one for IBPC. It speaks to the heart.

my best to you,

Michelle

[Mary Boren]

Oh my goodness. Thank you, Kathy, Daniel, Jackie, Michelle. I am overwhelmed by the unexpected outpouring of kind response to this poem, and thrilled that it has struck a chord with you.

Liz, I really appreciate the thorough going-over. I have given the matter a lot of thought and it just doesn't feel right to revise. My dad loves it just the way it is, the same way he loves me -- warts 'n' all. :)

Michelle, it is so sweet of you to want to nominate it. But, really, it's not IBPC material. You guys are too easy -- tough critics would have a field day here.

And I love you for that.

Mary

[Mistral]

Hi Mary,

What a gorgeous poem and wonderful way to demonstrate fatherly wisdom and the influence parents have on their kids. Thought it was beautifully executed and totally enjoyed the read.

Hugs,
M

[Maggie]

Hi Nada,

Yes, this is a long poem, but so are many other fine poems long too. I do think this poem is wonderful-a great Father's Day poem with a superb final stanza. Personally, I think it should be left just as it is in all of its beauty and wisdom!!

Peggy