He swings. The hoedad opens up the ground.
He sets the seedling, steps, and moves around.
For every bend a nickel he will earn.
He counts by thousands and without concern.
His caffeinated soda’s cheap and sweet
With peanut butter sandwiches to eat.
At night he camps with others like him who
Will spend four months together on this crew.
He works alone but some come there with spouses
While others waste their time and break up houses.
He’d not expect to find some girl who’d stay
And some feel life’s less lonely lived that way.
Written for dVerse Tuesday Poetics: Artisan hosted by Kim featuring poems by Seamus Heaney.
I love your poem, Frank, which emulates Heaney’s so well. Even better that you have written about a tree planter – has to be my favourite person in the world! Great word, ‘hoedad’ – I’d never seen or heard it before and now I want to use it myself. You’ve even described his lunch, a marvellous detail, which makes me think you must know or have known him, especially as you have written about his loneliness so poignantly in the final rhyming couplet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve planted trees for large forestry companies for three winters when I was young. There is a sort of art to it, but it is easy to learn if one can handle the physical exercise involved. The hoedad has a long handle, like an axe, with a curved blade that is swung into the ground to make a hole for the seedling. I have worn out a couple of them planting perhaps over a quarter million seedlings. I’m glad you liked it. I tried to imitate the second example you provided.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have never thought how a tree planter can be like a navvy… the navvy cut the trees and build railroads and the tree planter will come after when you need the trees again. But they live away in much the same way.
LikeLiked by 1 person
They do seem similar in their migratory work patterns and living in temporary work camps. Thanks!
LikeLike
I’ve heard that tree planting is a hard job, but thank goodness for those who do it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I remember my first day planting trees. It drizzled rain. We still worked. I was sore from exercising muscles I never exercised before. I felt I was going to die, but then the next day was better, and the next and sometime during that third day I realized no one was dying and it felt fine. It is hard even after one gets used to doing it. Thanks!
LikeLike
I admire people who can do it as it takes a lot of work and time! They do make a difference in the long run.
Really admire the rhyming couplets Frank. Beautiful work on the prompt!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Grace!
LikeLike
You’ve channelled Heaney here, for sure. Wonderful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
Yes, Frank, you nailed the Heaney form, and made the message your own. I always get tangled up in forced rhyme, but am willing to do it for dVerse prompts. You made it flow so smoothly, the rhyme never bothered me. Rhyme always feels forced, shallow, & restrictive within my own stanzas–unless I inadvertently create internal rhyme.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I mainly pay attention to the meter and hope the rhyme will fall into place on its own. I agree that rhyme stands out too much in some poems. Thanks!
LikeLike
I like the simple way you told the story (in Heaney’s style) of this man and his work, and how you get in the details–the hoedad, the soda, and his lonely life.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice work Frank. On the page, and on the Earth.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLike