Feel free to look around in this blog. What you see is what you get. What you saw yesterday may not be here today. All logos, trademarks and content in this site are property of their respective owners. Posts and comments are the property of their posters. However I reserve the right to remove any and all of said items. All else, poems and other writing and photographs taken by Jim are © Copyright 2005-2023 by jimmiehov ( jhovendic@yahoo.com ).
Pages
▼
Saturday, April 30, 2016
NaPoWriMo 2016, Day # 30 ~~ School Days [Poetizing the Maypole]
[please click on picture to make it a bit larger -- I am the boy in back]
Dance a Jig for Maypole Celebration
The teacher did her best, every year, come May first
Sunny or cold she'd have the kids out by the pole
The oldest boy played his role, shinnied up that pole
In his hands were clutched rolls of ribbon tightly wound
Hanging from his waist was a contraption complex
Envy of mechanical engineers they said
Teacher called it a spreader the kids all did laugh
Farm kids knew only the manure spreader. Not this
The 'big kid' hung the ribbons on the hooks
Hooks there on the teacher's neat contraption
Dangled them down to their ends, near the ground
Each kid scrambled get his favorite hue
On teachers command the boys and girls sang
They sang a jig which they'd already learned
So the dance would start, one goes to the right
Two goes to the left, three goes the right
And so on for a half turn they had gone
Then each would change direction turning left
Another half turn and so on they would dance
Dance until their ribbons were tightly 'twined
That's all this poor writer can remember
That was a long time ago. Flash forward
In college days May pole dances were barred
'Communist inspired,' McCarthyism
Next I knew we were traveling Austria
Down the back roads every farm that we passed
Maypole standing tall. One variation
Professional plaque, labour's alive, well
“The Last of the Maypole Dancers”, by Ilsa Elford, (via link)
Top Photo and Poem Copyright © 2010 and 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
This is the last day of National Poetry Month. My writing is linked to Magaly Guerrero's post, Poetizing the Maypole, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
Notes:
(1) In the top picture, my school picture for the fourth grade, I was the biggest boy. Perhaps the teacher climbed the flag pole to hang our ribbons. More likely that was done by one of the fathers. My sister was in the first grade, the tiniest girl. The girl next to her and the other boy were our first cousins.
(2) For directions telling how to make your own Maypole dance, click here
Wonderful memories, Jim!
ReplyDeleteBeen a while back, eh, Jim ?? I know you wonder were all the classmates are today. I'm sure some have gone on to Glory. I bet you were the smartest boy. 1930-something?
ReplyDelete... Dan
Later than that, Dan!! But I'm not saying.
ReplyDeleteSuch a delightful write Jim :D
ReplyDeleteI found your opening intriguing, Jim. Great poem!
ReplyDeleteGreat memories, Jim!
ReplyDeleteWhat fine memories... but banned, that was stretching it I think.
ReplyDeleteOh, I have wonderful memories of Maypoles and Maypole dances!!!
ReplyDeleteLove this bright memory, Jim... the step by step way into the dance, the thoughts around the activity, the laughter of the farm children (I so understand that part!). And the last two stanzas are just extra wonderful.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed your maypole story so much. Some things change and so things stay the same,,,
ReplyDeleteSuch an interesting history, personal and also of the world. Thanks, Jim. k.
ReplyDeleteLittle country schools must look the same all the world over!
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading your poetic reminiscences, but am shocked all over again by the excess and stupidity of McCarthyism.
Seems like a lovely tradition to me.
ReplyDeleteThat is a really cool memory!
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your lovely memories Jim
ReplyDeletemy maypole response
much love...