Poet Doesn’t Know It 2

The following was taken from a post on a local blog by a member registered with the username, Seminore.

It’s being re-posted here with permission, but The Journal has edited it just slightly.

Originally posted as one long paragraph, The Journal took the liberty to format it in a more poetic structure. Considering that the events recounted took place on a past Earth Day, and today is Earth Day, perhaps “recycled poetry” might be an appropriate term.

Poetry, originally, was designed to help the oral transmission of history, the epic poems. While the local tale related below might not measure as epic on a global scale, it certainly registers as epic on the scale of an individual – it’s an adventure.

The idea of “recycled poetry” is not original either, and has been utilized to help teach students how to write poetry. Taking an existing source and editing it into a poem.

That’s not exactly what we’ve done here, but similar — Neither the original words or their order have been changed in this example, but the poem structure helps communicate the experience .

A Journey To Oakland

A river trip down the Ramapo
could be very interesting.

Several years ago
my wife and three young kids
did just that
in a 16 foot canoe.

I was recently appointed
to the Planning Board and
the senior members strongly
encouraged me
to get a view
of Oakland
from the river.

I thought I had
the necessary skill
in that I spent
many summers as a boy
on the Sound sailing
and had also went down
the Delaware and Mad Rivers
in canoes.

My ignorance
was only exceeded
by my arrogance.

On a beautiful
Earth Day in April
we shoved off from a point
a little north
of the Route 17
overpass in Mahwah.

The river was running
a little fast
which I thought was good
in that we would get
what I thought
would be a boring trip
over in a few hours.

After some preparation
in finding the appropriate
seating for everyone
and life jackets
we entered the river.

I immediately had difficulty
steering a true course
due to the eddys,
pools and debris
in the water,
to say nothing of the overloaded boat.

We meandered from bank to bank
and as the river gained
velocity started
to rickoshay off
the various obstruction
in the river.

As we banged into one
low lying branch
three baby snakes
fell into the boat.

You can well understand
the predicament we faced
in not being able
to flee or even move
as the snakes slithered
in the bow,
kids and wife screaming to
do something
and do it now!

Fortunately the snakes
were small and
my paddle was long.
I was able to scoop the critters up
one by one
and toss ’em overboard.

I think I may have
clubbed them first.

Problem solved,
and I felt quite macho
heading back
into the main channel
paying little attention
to the major rapids
that lie ahead.

We hit the turbulence
at precisely the wrong angle
and overturned in about
4 feet of fast water
just north of Campgaw.

Kids and wife being taken
downriver by the current
a good clip
while I wrestled
with the overturned canoe
to keep it under
control.

Fortunately the river quieted
as it rounded a bend
and my wife and kids
were able to find safety
on shore near the Reservation.

I was able
to bring the boat
to them. My wife and daughters
had had enough.

My son seemed to be
enjoying the trip
more with each mishap.

After exchanging a few
choice words with me
the soaking wet girls
decided to walk up
to Ramapo Valley Road and
get back to the car.

My son decided to continue
the journey with me
and we had a delightful
journey to Oakland.

The boat was under control
with the weight removed.
I took my time,
knowing the reception
I was to get at home
that evening.

You do have to portage
over a couple of areas,
noteably close to where
Les Paul had a home.

The Ramapo was magnificent
that early spring day.

I could well understand
why folks would put up
with the occasional flooding
to live on it.

I also realized
how powerful
and unpredicatble
the river could be
and the
intricate interdependancie
of the river ecology.

But the biggest lesson
learned from that trip
was a reminder that
“There by the Grace of God go I”.