Does the Wind Worry?

By Augustus Merrill

This is book of poems in an original and innovative form in which brief prose passages lead into traditional lined verse. A ship's captain loses his nerve, a young black girl asks, "What's the point of math when Christmas is coming?, an old woman selects the books she will take with her to the grave. This poetic form is intended to provide the context without which so many poems are difficult and puzzling. The form offers the compactness of the short story merging into the lyrical quality of poetry. The poems are easy to read and are not intended to be difficult or academic/

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667833705

Book preview

On Corporal Punishment

It was noon. The men sat idling, eating the sandwiches they had brought from home or bought at the filling station. They were rough men of all ages with scars in place of tattoos, with missing teeth in place of earrings. One of them had to bring his son on the job. The boy was bored and acting very badly. He was disturbing the men. They told his father that the boy needed a good ass-beating. The father agreed. The sun grew hotter and hotter and moved into the men’s shade. The men grew quieter. They remembered being beaten themselves. They became depressed and were relieved when it was time to go back to work.

If he were mine, the little swine,

I’d show him what is what.

I’d tan his hide, I’d paddle his bottom,

On his snout I’d snatch a knot.

But he is yours they mock at me,

Make good your fearful boast.

And I cannot, for I was beaten

And all the world was lost.

The Captain

In a picturesque town on a high cape above the blue Mediterranean a boy lay face down sobbing and kicking his thin legs. Hush, Amiel, hush, his mother comforted him, things are not so bad as all this. In a picturesque town on a high cape above the blue Mediterranean a boy ran through the streets shouting, It’s my birthday! His father caught him and pulled him inside. Hush, Amiel, hush. We all have birthdays. The boy grew up proud and strong. He became a skilled sailor, a captain. He sailed between the Scylla of sorrow and the Charybdis of joy. He had a scar on his heel.

Things don’t look so good.

The radar is down, the barometer is falling,

The sound of the menacing breakers is not so distant at all.

The captain wants to surrender his white cap,

His gold braid, his place at the head of the table.

He wants to run throughout the ship naked

With a sandwich board flapping over his bare bottom.

Doomed! the board reads, We are all doomed!

Steady now, Captain, steady.

The radar may return, the wind may shift, the sky may clear

And you may soon be safely back at the head of the table

And safely back out at sea.

Or maybe just the opposite: things look great!

Things have never looked so good!

The pink sunrise over the little low palm-studded islands

Is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Oh Captain, now you want to run through the ship

Commanding, All hands on deck!

Oh what a beautiful morning!

Steady now, Captain steady.

Remember the stone stairs to the cemetery

High above the sea and the cape where you were born.

Remember how your father never let you imagine how poor he was.

Remember your mother who made her rounds before sunrise

Cooking in the homes of the rich, singing softly to herself,

Letting you dream and lie abed until almost noon.

Remember how they let you be a captain.

Remember to go there each April and place flowers on their grave.

Remember to go there