L is for Lil Dipper

Lobster Boat Names from A to Z - 

Click on the A-to-ZChallenge tab above to go links to more A to Z posts!

Today's post from me is brought to you by the letter L!   First up is "Lil Dipper" and below an original poem for her.  Then there is Lasca J, a slightly larger boat with her own original poem.

Lil Dipper

"Lil Dipper"

                                           I'm a bobber, dobber, lobster boat
                                           Who bounces atop the sea
                                           I may look small but I'm no joke
                                           There's no one catches me!

                                           I'm a whipper, dipper, lobster clipper
                                           Who works a steady pace
                                           I may look cute but watch your back
                                           I'll beat you in any race!

 

Lasca J

"Lasca J"

High water or low

I'll push on the same

Skimming by others

Who know me by name.

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Legal lobster (in Maine) =

• has a carapace between 3 1/4 and 5 inches long
• is not a berried female.
• has no V-notch, nicks, grooves, or indentations of any kind along its edge on the female tail flipper.

Live-tank or Live-well = A tank filled with seawater to hold live lobsters.

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I'll be posting on Sunday, though it won't be a lobster boat poem.  Sunday is a day off from the A to Z Challenge, but it will be a poem, and there will be pictures related to lobstering and Maine, so come on back then!

J is for Jacob & Rachel

The day of J-ay.
And this first poem was a first poem, scheduled and ready to post.  Then I came back to it today (which is yesterday officially for you) to check and see what I had put together.  I wasn't satisfied with it.  So I started messing with it.  I was just going to add to it, but then before I knew it:
Cut.  Revise.  Cut.  Paste in a different spot.  Cut.  Add. Edit-Undo, Edit-Undo.  Rewrite.  Add.  Think. Think.  Admonition to self - "Stop thinking and just see, feel and write".  Cut a bit, move a bit.  Done.  Whoops!  One more word change.

So the first poem just under the picture is old, below ~~~~~~ is new and revised.

"Jacob & Rachel"

1.
The lobsterman's job

To pass on to kin:

The traps are hauled up

And then tossed back in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2.
With barnacled hands
Sand dollar skin
 Periwinkle eyes
And rocky hard chin
He’s  a part of the land
A part of the sea
 A heart for the deep and
For his family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3.
Barnacled hands,
Sand dollar skin,
 Periwinkle eyes,
Rocky ledge chin;
 Part of the land,
Portion of sea;
 Heart for the deep
And for family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now that I see both together, the second one is nothing at all like the original.  That's good.  Do you agree?  Or do you prefer the first?
"But I see three poems here," I hear you saying.  Okay, just came back to this, this morning, and did some cutting and resulted in #3.  That's my pick.  What a transition!  I think I'm finally happy with it.  Less is more here.  J is also for Just Do It.
I like revising.  Do you?  Have you ever started with a poem or piece and messed with it so much that it ended up totally different?

Educational Jargon:

Jumbo: A lobster that weighs over 2-1/2 pounds.

G is for Great White

Today is G in the AtoZ Challenge.  Check out other AtoZ Challenge posts by clicking on the link in my tabs above.  There are so many interesting topics that bloggers have picked to write about each day except Sundays in the month of April.  Since it is also Poetry Month, I have elected to write at least a poem a day to do with my topic - lobster boats of Maine.  I found one for the letter G!  I'd been looking for quite some time for a boat with a name that started with G, so I was pretty excited when I happened upon this one.  I still have Q, U, X, and Z to find...but that's not too bad.  I'm still looking. 

"Great White"

The sea's predator -
So agile and quick,
Cutting and weaving,
Movements so slick;

Low dipping gulls will

Pick up any scraps

Of whatever's tossed

From the jaws of my traps.

Education Gallery:

Learn about the Great White Shark

and Seagulls

A Seaman's Woman

I watch the way your
Work gnarled hands
Comb through your
Tangled thinning strands
You reach for your storm-worn jacket
You grab your lunch
and kiss me "Thanks"
Your boots walk heavy
on the planks
I begin my waitful watching.
Sun warms the day
but not the seas
Over the side legs
swing with ease
Though slower than the day we wed.
Our grandson follows
quick behind
Hops in two young legs
At a time.
And runs his hand through tousled locks.
The day begins
for you anew
But it's no longer
mine to view
My life of sea is here on land.
I know the seas
that call your name
I've known that voice
and heard the same
I've baited and wrestled with ropes.
Side by side our
lives together
With winds, waves and
storms to weather
Until Salt and Sweet brought new tides
With life's new
challenges in hand
Though my sea heart
was grounded on land
It beat with you as you kept the tides.
Till you returned
from cold wild sea
For supper and
warm bed with me
These days and years skimmed by.
A son of the sea
Sweet left to marry
But Salt remained
to help you carry
Our name and all the load.
Son of Salt growing,
filling your boots
Puts down his
seaweed roots
And feels that tug on his oar-locked heart
Mirroring your moves,
Old Salty, beware
Your grandson watches
what you share
Becoming his own man of the sea.
And he will be strong
and happy as you
If he finds
his sea-woman true
To share this salt and sweet life.

Donna JT Smith, 2013

I should be writing about my trip and my grandson...but I guess in some respects I am. I started this poem a while ago, finished it, and then reworked it into this rhyming format, which I finished today. Though not men of the sea where I'm visiting  in Pennsylvania, the plot is still the same.

Thistles by the Sea

Thistles by the Sea

Braving fog that's coming in

Thistles by the sea

Fog hovers o'er the sea and land

And settles in on me.

Surging in to shore

Comes a misty roll

It overtakes my being

And reaches to my soul.

Don your bright sou'wester

Breathe deep the salty air

As foggy day approaches

To dampen tousled hair.

Wafting through the mist

Sounds a distant horn

Moans within the cloud

All sailors to forewarn.

Tomorrow will dawn brighter

For thistles by the sea

Lifting prickled leaves and head

They'll host a cautious bee.

The sun will kiss the waves

The fog will lift at last

And sailors will go out to sea

Their nets again to cast.

And thistles by the sea

Live on forevermore

Through wind and wave and fog

They'll stand beside the shore.

*************************************

My grandparents were "Thistles", as was I.  They came here by ferry from Newfoundland just after they had their first child.  My grandfather was a seal hunter, sent out at the age of 10 or 13 to work on a seal boat; a fisherman and a lobsterman.  The Thistles have always lived by the sea.  And that is what this poem is really about.
I took the picture of the thistles at the edge of the sea, near our (hopefully) new/old cottage...which we are in the process of buying.