I read my grandfather’s poems,
his thoughts, his soul, his
words
about nature and god’s vast creation,
which he seemed to love more than I love
anything in the world.
He died picking wild blueberries.
They found him a few days later, bucket half full,
lying there in the moss and dew,
three berries loitering in his crippled hand, alone;
the same hand that wrote these poems.
My grandfather,
uneducated,
an immigrant from Russia,
drove school bus for a living,
had never read Walt Whitman,
yet wrote like him.
Poems about trees and grass, animals and sunlight;
simple things.
They were love poems,
and so is this.
Andrew Unger is a high school English teacher and writer, living on the windswept Canadian prairies.
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Posted on November 29, 2009 in Literary
11 Responses to “WORDS • by Andrew Unger”
Comments
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November 29th, 2009 at 7:18 am
Beautiful! A lovely tribute.
November 29th, 2009 at 10:22 am
This comment is very simplistic, but Walt Whitman wrote about people’s spirits, people’s inter-relations with each other, sex, and politics. Seldom about nature except for it’s inclusion in the part of the cosmos (or territory) as known to people.
November 29th, 2009 at 12:19 pm
I loved it.
Simplistic.
I hope my grandkids appreciate my efforts.
November 29th, 2009 at 12:38 pm
I love this poem!
November 29th, 2009 at 12:52 pm
Just beautiful. Although the details are slightly different, I can recognise my dad. Thank you.
November 29th, 2009 at 1:22 pm
I meant my own comment is simplistic. And Kanada.
November 29th, 2009 at 2:36 pm
Beautiful. I love this poem. By the way, it says “wrote like Walt Whitman”. Not “wrote about the same things as Walt Whitman”.
November 29th, 2009 at 3:32 pm
Well done tribute.
–dj
November 29th, 2009 at 4:38 pm
Beautiful, just beautiful. What a great tribute.
December 1st, 2009 at 8:27 am
Brilliant. Loved this poem.
December 5th, 2009 at 10:48 pm
Great post this will really help me.