This is inspired by memories from the 1950’s when my father and I would fish, well into the night in the Canadian wilderness. Coming back, with “little blue”, our 25 HP Evinrude pushing us through the damp, foggy darkness, traversing the treacherous rocky ‘narrows’ that connected the chain of lakes we fished.
Huge boulders lurked ominously in the clear, cold water. Motor off, dad would carefully row and pole our way through, with the bow-hung Coleman lantern’s yellow glow to guide us — and me at the bow of the boat with a hand-held Rayovac spotlight, visually probing the dark depths. The huge submerged rocks, appearing from out of the darkness like some beast, coming into the penetrating beam of my light, were indeed spooky, and gave me a shiver — still do.
Each season several fishermen would take out the bottom of their wood boats on an unseen rock. Bear and wolves lived in the forests, so one did not want to trek for miles through the pitch black of night. Making our way, weary and wet, back to our little island’s dark wooden dock was slow and eerie – but thrilling!
photo collage: “The Dock” – rob kistner © 2009
slowly cloaked
by the ghostly shroud
the lone light
hangs heavy
from the bow ring
throws its yellowed glow
into the damp night
searching its beam
fractured ‘cross the chop water
probing for the dark dock
for home
rob kistner © 08/13/09
revised © 2019
Hi! I’m Edgrrr, rob’s shih tzu.
This was so atmospheric. Excellent.
Hi Rob,
Wonderful ‘O’ sounds throughout. Agree with Anthony’s comment. Great that the poem is boat-shaped too!
As Tony says, very atmospheric!
Anthony –
Thank you for the kind words… 😉
…rob
Derrick –
I’m pleased you enjoyed this piece… 😉
Thank you for being keenly observant. I had not realized the boat-like shape, but there it is.
…rob
gautami –
Nice to have you visit again. I miss you when I’m not linking to my posted work…
…rob
This was just beautifully done. Until the very end I sensed it was a “ghost ship”.
This is one of my favorites of your poems. You build a mood and a picture with so few words. The O’s really work.
Cynthia –
Thank you for your warm words… 😉
Who knows, it might just be a small boat of the dead, who perished long ago at sea, doomed to forever row for home…
…rob
Tamara –
You are most kind, thank you… 😉
I’m pleased this poem touched you!
…rob
I think your use of the “o” sound lent a kind of slow feel to it, which added to its mood. Nice and visual. Good write.
Thank you Nicole –
I was going for a deep, heavy, slow movement through the thick fog — I’m pleased you felt it… 😉
I think that the second stanza – the sounds all come together perfectly to create, for me, the strongest image.
Hi DJ –
Thank you for your kind observation, and for visiting… 😉
The three stanzas of “Dark Dock” each represent a different element of the poem. Stanza 1 is the atmosphere, the environment wherein the poem takes place. Stanza 2 is the boat. Stanza three and the tag line, represent the quest.
Just sharing for anyone caring to know.
…rob
This is my first visit to your site to read your poem. I liked the subject. It has been a long time since I was out in a boat at night. I remember the cold damp feeling and the yearning to be home. Describing the yellow light as a glow takes the brightness away and makes the poem darker and more lonely. Thank you for posting this descriptive, realistic scene.
O sooooooooooooo goooooooooooooood rOb
wOw and a great phOtO tOO
Linda –
Thank you for visiting… 😉
I’m glad you liked this piece.
…rob
Thank you Wayne… 😉
I appreciate the kind words.
…rob
Wayne –
The photo is a collage of three (3) separate photos that I created in PhotoShop. My goal was to visually capture the essence of the poem. Glad you like.
…rob
Great connections between sound and sense here.
There is a melancholy quality to this poem. I loved the sense of gloom and the feeble resonance that all sailors feel when at sea. Been there done that. This reached into my past and pulled the big fish of memory to the surface.
Regards,
DH
Nathan –
Thank you for the gracious words… 😉
I appreciate your visit.
…rob
Donald –
I’m glad this piece touched you… 😉
Thank you for visiting…
…rob
Great job creating the tone! Love the word “home” at the end!
This is one of those poems that needs to be read many times. I have read it ten times already and I get a new feel each time I go through it. beautiful
Hi Linda –
Thank you… 😉
As always, I’m pleased you visited.
…rob
Hi Grizz –
You are most gracious, and I am deeply moved that you are so taken with this piece. Thank you for journeying into the layers of this work!
This is the type of poetry I most like to write – atmospheric, poetry noir… trying to go deep into feelings, emotions, with few, but effective words. If only I could go there more often — it’s difficult…
This simple piece evolved over a year’s time, with the most recent inspiration being this RWP prompt. Through probably 30-40 edits and re-writes, I’ve labored over each word — the sound they make when I read them aloud, how they feel in my mouth when spoken, the physical appearance of the composition, even the photo-collage image I created to compliment the verse had to ring true…
In the end, this piece had to stir me no matter how often I read it, or I could not be satisfied — it’s close…
…rob
that second stanze had the glow on my face!
Hi AD –
I can see the radiance from here… 😉
…rob
AH! So beautifully visualized — the images are so clear and concrete through the prism of memory. I loved this bit: “searching its beam/fractured ‘cross the chop water/probing for the dark dock”.
Thank you Anmol! Those boat trips, returning from night fishing, through the damp Canadian darkness, searching the settling lake fog for the dock of our little island – are among my most vivid and cherished memories of my childhood with my dad. When we’d tie up the boat, by the frail light of the lantern, the call of the lake loons would resonate over the water. When we’d get up to the cabin, we would always douse the lantern and in the pitch black, we would stare up at the billions of stars that were visible in the wilderness night sky. Absolutely captivating! To this day, I still “feel” the experience in my soul.
I enjoyed the ghostly atmosphere, capped off with that last hopeful word, “home”.
It was an incredibly eerie, but wonderfully thrilling feeling Rommy. Those boat trips, returning from night fishing, through the damp Canadian darkness, searching the settling lake fog for the dock of our little island – are among my most vivid and cherished memories of my childhood with my dad. When we’d tie up the boat, by the frail light of the lantern, the call of the lake loons would resonate over the water. When we’d get up to the cabin, we would always douse the lantern and in the pitch black, we would stare up at the billions of stars that were visible in the wilderness night sky. Absolutely captivating! To this day, I still “feel” the experience in my soul.
I think in our own way, we all seek home. Melancholic poem Rob. The fog, the boat, the dock all add to the elements of loss.
Actually, Toni, it was a sense of found, not lost. Those boat trips, returning from night fishing, through the damp Canadian darkness, searching the settling lake fog for the dock of our little island – are among my most vivid and cherished memories of my childhood with my dad. When we’d tie up the boat, by the frail light of the lantern, the call of the lake loons would resonate over the water. When we’d get up to the cabin, we would always douse the lantern and in the pitch black, we would stare up at the billions of stars that were visible in the wilderness night sky. Absolutely captivating! To this day, I still “feel” the experience in my soul.
Great..fortunately all it takes is one light
Yes Larry, but a sevond hand-held light played a key roll at times. Those boat trips, returning from night fishing, through the damp Canadian darkness, searching the settling lake fog for the dock of our little island – are among my most vivid and cherished memories of my childhood with my dad. When we’d tie up the boat, by the frail light of the lantern, the call of the lake loons would resonate over the water. When we’d get up to the cabin, we would always douse the lantern and in the pitch black, we would stare up at the billions of stars that were visible in the wilderness night sky. Absolutely captivating! To this day, I still “feel” the experience in my soul.
I can feel the tension in that cautious ride, see the dark shadows of the big rocks, and imagine the relief of arriving safely home…….
Glad this resonated for you Sherry. As I commenred to Anmol, Those boat trips, returning from night fishing, through the damp Canadian darkness, searching the settling lake fog for the dock of our little island – are among my most vivid and cherished memories of my childhood with my dad. When we’d tie up the boat, by the frail light of the lantern, the call of the lake loons would resonate over the water. When we’d get up to the cabin, we would always douse the lantern and in the pitch black, we would stare up at the billions of stars that were visible in the wilderness night sky. Absolutely captivating! To this day, I still “feel” the experience in my soul.
Having never been out on a boat at night, I found this poem spooky, although it has also given me the urge to spend a night on a boat. There are some excellent sounds, especially the ‘oh’ assonance. I also like the click and sibilance in ‘cloaked by the ghostly shroud’, and the lines:
‘searching its beam
fractured ‘cross the chop water
probing for the dark dock’ –
the rhythm rocks with the boat.
You should go out on a wilderness lake at night Kim, it is enthralling eerie, ad a huge adrenaline charge! Like I commented to Anmol – Those boat trips, returning from night fishing, through the damp Canadian darkness, searching the settling lake fog for the dock of our little island – are among my most vivid and cherished memories of my childhood with my dad. When we’d tie up the boat, by the frail light of the lantern, the call of the lake loons would resonate over the water. When we’d get up to the cabin, we would always douse the lantern and in the pitch black, we would stare up at the billions of stars that were visible in the wilderness night sky. Absolutely captivating! To this day, I still “feel” the experience in my soul.
What a great memory… both spooky and adventurous at the same time.
Björn, to repeat my heartfelt comment to Anmol- Those boat trips, returning from night fishing, through the damp Canadian darkness, searching the settling lake fog for the dock of our little island – are among my most vivid and cherished memories of my childhood with my dad. When we’d tie up the boat, by the frail light of the lantern, the call of the lake loons would resonate over the water. When we’d get up to the cabin, we would always douse the lantern and in the pitch black, we would stare up at the billions of stars that were visible in the wilderness night sky. Absolutely captivating! To this day, I still “feel” the experience in my soul.
An eerie passage uncorked from a haunting memory. Something fin-de-siecle about it, ungraced, unsalvageable — for children are exposed to such moments by far greater magnitudes than any church can solace. What faith is great enough for such sudden uprising boulders? The sense of perilous passage and the randomness of luck is keen here. Well done.
I will never forget the thrill of those experiences Brendan. They were genuine adventures, and so deepened the bond between dad and I, and my love for him. He not only rescued me from a life in an orphanage, but took me on amazing adventures into the heart of the unsullied natural world many, many times in my youth – Canada, Minnesota, Wisconsin, upper Michigan. And not for a weekend, we would be off the grid for 2-3 weeks. Cooking with fire, bringing water up from the lake or river. We would fish lakes and rivers, many of which we would drive for miles far away from any city, off the paved toad, onto dirt riads. Even had to portage in a number of times. Most of the time far from electricity, running water, telephone – the normal coveniences of life. So many previous memories! Tears come as I write and remember. I was a damned lucky son of a bitch!
That light hanging heavy from the bow ring…sets the tone!
Glad this resonated for you!
The mood is enchanting and inviting–I can hear the water dance against the sides of the boat, the light guiding the pair home…
At first glance, the darkness might make us think of gloomy thoughts, but… I see no real gloom. Just the glorious–and very welcome–exhaustion of a time well spent, of a lot of joy shared with someone we love, of a memory being made (to be carried forever).
It brings to mind memories of my big brother and I night fishing when I was very young. Even the thought of it has me smiling… 🙂
I am glad this touched you Magaly! Those return trips in the dark of night were spooky in their way, eerie a better description – but they were glorious, exciting, adventurous, and full of love. Would not trade those memories for anything. If I ever lose them to some external cause, it would be a tragedy! That’s a wonderful story sbout you and your brother… 🙂
Love this look back to the 50s .. my era. And your words ring true, thanks for the gift.
You sre most welcome Helen! 🙂 the 40’s & 50’s were my childhood and teen years. My father was my hero, and he still is for so many reasons… I will be rewriting an esrly tribute to him soon.
BTW, I saw you posted an Icart entitled “Secretes” from 1928, on your website with a post you call “Sisterhood”. My wife and I collect hand-pulled Icart lithos. We have a full size litho of “Secrets”! Bewutiful piece. My two favorite of the Louis Icarts we own are “Vitesse (Speed” from 1933, and “Coursing II” from 1929. We have a couple of his erotics as well.
How wonderful to know the origin of the lovely art! Toad Margaret included it in a challenge she hosted but did not identify the artist! Now I want to know more about him. We have to be close to the same age as the 40s and 50s were my growing up years too.
Just Google Louis Icart and check out his art. He was influenced by both the art nouveau and art deco periods.
nice…i grew up in the woods of Minnesota in the 60’s – one never forgets those images of nature…..like never!…bkm
My deepest and most powerful memories of my love for my father, and he for me! I am glad this resonated for you Barbara! 🙂