the Hunter. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard
the Hunter.
I remember the Mysore road
Out past Brindivan Dam
I remember the old diesel Desoto
Chugging, taking us to the tanks
I remember the beer
Wrapped in the Times of India
For morning tea
It was an eye opener for me
Pretending to be tough
But still such a kid
Wet behind the ears
What do I do with this shotgun?
Get us dinner my young lad
Fingers pointing to the sky
Perhaps it was my good fortune
That the Russian ammunition
We tried to fire
Was old, mostly a fizzer
Most of the ducks lived
None the less I still picked shot
Out of my teeth later at dinner
Whilst the cooks hid in the kitchen
For fear of reprisal….!
——
My first taste of India 1981
So exciting for a young new traveller
I have learnt lots since then
Ducks are safe around me now
Only in my memories am I
A wild hunter.
in the lake. An amateur lunatic wouldn't know if I was laughing or crying…
love the storytelling. Talented pen. This is a great piece of writing. tfs
Thank you Richard for your reaction to this poem.I appreciate it very much.Cheers, Geoffrey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 12:13:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The ducks would know Geoffrey, thank you as always for your amazing story telling.
Thank you John. I appreciate your words. Geoffrey.