Of canvas and the lemming’s secret – for dVerse

· by · in dVerse, free verse, poetry. ·


Norwegian canvas always on his back
dressed in shorts and raincoat
(as it always seemed to rain)
registering in notebook
and a camera clic clic constantly
a film per day – for his work

his students, that I later met
recalled pictures of the rock-formations
and a little boy — who was me.

I alway trailed behind, and wondered
what I was doing in the rain
while my friends had fun in Spain

but I told secrets to the lemmings
protecting them from buzzards up above
while drinking ice-cold water
from a yellow plastic cup
(my lips still recall its jagged edge)

My father told me how the glaciers
had polished rocks – smooth as silk
where we shared a frugal lunch
(crisp bread with Norwegian cheese)

and I remember the day, that day
when a thunderstorm made me realize
that also father’s could be scared
crawling on the ground we still felt
so much smaller than we were

That day – I became a little older

My dad's old backpack

My dad’s old backpack


At dVerse poetics Mary wants us to go treasure hunting at home. To find that special thing that tell a story. We recently found my dad’s old canvas back-pack he always carried when we were out walking in the mountains. My daddy was a professor of Geography and spent all summers working with observations. For us kids (and mostly me,followed him on long walks). I do not remember it too fondly, but I realize that it gave me a love for the outdoors, that have followed me since.

Join us when the pub opens at 3 PM EST
—
April 8, 2014

45 responses to “Of canvas and the lemming’s secret – for dVerse”

  2. What a great tribute to your dad you have written through the evocation of his backpack! I could see the little boy walking behind or eating his frugal lunch. I am sure you are glad your dad bequeathed this bag and his love of the outdoors.

  3. Your father was a teacher in every sense. Not just for his students but for his son as well. Though perhaps you did not appreciate it at the time, you walked in the footsteps of a wise man who imparted knowledge by example, not only words. I enjoyed the memories evoked by his backpack.

  4. I enjoyed the back story Bjorn ~ I can imagine you had a different childhood & memories as you walked behind him.

    This is lovely souvenir from your father and he did give you the passion for outdoors ~ Happy Tuesday ~

  5. This was a lovely memorial to your father, Bjorn. Our parents weren’t perfect (and neither are we) but most of them tried their best. They gave us what they thought we needed. My dad had a love of being in the outdoors I would never have, but it was passed through the genes to my son. Sometimes it skips a generation or more. I appreciate nature but was a city person. We are what we are and we’re all different.

  6. what a rather powerful moment there in the end…realizing the mortality of our parents has that effect…what a cool bag…i carry a satchel bag as well…and what strong memories of your father….

  8. That is great … the backpack still carries things. I love this story, Bjorn!
    I really like this part of the poem: “his students, that I later met
    recalled pictures of the rock-formations
    and a little boy — who was me.”
    Are you Norwegian, then? My family on my father’s side is Norwegian, the last name is Eide.

  9. Very cool how something like an old backpack can conjure up so many memories…and how difficult times THEN are fond memories NOW.

  11. Very original, creative, & emotional response to the dVerse prompt, brother. I had a succession of stepfathers, so it was my grandfather, n my mother’s side, that was patriarch & mentor for me; & wouldn’t you know, he sneaks into a lot of my poetics.

  13. I had to laugh at your heartfelt child’s response – it always seemed to rain, and you wondering what you were doing there while your friends were having fun in Spain… and then the profound realisation at the end of the poem, that fathers are human too and know fear. A great story, well told.

  14. A beautiful story, Bjorn. I can feel the weather looming as I read this, and picture a disgruntled boy too! It’s very strange when we first see our parents as just normal, every day people, isn’t it?

  15. Oh that backpack looks BULGING with stories. I love this one you told, I smiled at the frugal lunch, the smooth stones and the love your father instilled in you that is carrying you through your life – for the wonders of nature. I so love this poem, Bjorn!

  16. while you may not remember that time fondly, this piece still held a bit of nostalgia that would have me think otherwise. a lovely write.

  17. I love it when memories can come from looking at something old, something that we don’t think has the power to bring back things like the memory of a rough cup lip or a storm. Great piece Bjorn.

  19. i can see that young boy tramping behind his father, sipping from a rough cup and eating a simple lunch…the important thing was being outdoors together 🙂

  20. Touching tale of the relationship between two people, a coming of age and the memories of the bond forged…my brother wrote once that out father was a combination of George Atlas and Hemingway…I like the rhyme with Spain….

  23. We all have…….. My father loves to travel and I also follow him……. My life ambition or dream or what every u call it……… I want to go around the world and see as much place i can…….. Just love word travel and always want to ……………. My passion now has cot my husband too…..

  28. This is such a touching piece. Beautiful words.

    As an aside, I was so captivated by your recent villanelle I’ve researched the form, read other examples and am currently working on writing one myself (or attempting to – they are tricky). Thank you!

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