For today’s Poetics prompt at dVerse Poets Pub, Merril invites us to write a poem about boats or boating. Inspired by the prompt, I cut a filter with a section of an oval and a triangle and took pictures of clear string lights in front of the fireplace.

Front, Back Depends on the Boat
At this house
there is often misunderstanding
about a thing as simple
as front and back
When he says front
I think of where I come in
after an outing
or leave for errands
in my car
but he means
where he goes on adventures
out on the lake
in his boat
the side with all the windows
and the beautiful view of the mountain
when it’s not hiding
in the gray like today
which I call the back
Maybe the lakeside
is not a front for me
because I don’t drive
a motorized watercraft
or think of the houses
across the water
as my neighbors
We’ve never met
There’s nowhere to go
in a boat for me
so many dead ends
no destination
I used to like to row
in a little white boat, but
he filled the back
with fiberglass
so the nephews could
motorize it
now if you row
it’s in the drink you go
so I’d rather swim
be my own boat
front or back
I’m happy to float

A tale of two interests, diverging points, and a striking out on ones own. I love the idea of being your own boat.
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What a humorous take on the perils of miscommunication and crossed expectations! Loved it, Maria.
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Thank you. Glad you liked it.
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I feel the push and pull of differing perspectives and the play on ‘front or back’. Being your own boat sounds like a perfect solution 😉
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Thank you.
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Mars/Venus? Maybe, but women use words differently too. My mother saw the “front door” as the one that overlooked the road; I see it as the one that opens into the driveway. (The door that overlooks the road opens onto a porch above a hedge above a steep bank. People waiting for us to come out, or people coming in, always approach from the driveway.)
Some words seem to develop special “house” or “family” meanings anyway. Because the word “floor” echoes a mother-cat growl, my cats have learned that “FLOOR!” means “Get *off* the floor and onto the ground.” Sort of like the way most English-speaking people hang maps so that north is “up,” but in Maine north is traditionally “down,” hence “Down East.” Or like everything having a special name if it’s attached to a boat…
(Priscilla King)
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Nicely done. I liked he line of all dead ends and no destinations….
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Thank you.
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These seem like two totally different ways of seeing the world. I laughed because it reminded me of friends we have who always use “inside” to mean whatever room we’re not in. It confused us at first. 🙂
I imagine rowing is hard work, but it seems more contemplative than the noisy motorboats I see. I really like your “Lake of Fire.”
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Thank you. Glad you could relate, and I’m glad you liked my photo.
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You’re welcome.
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I am not fond of a motorized boat either… my preference is sailing, rowing or paddling. Maybe a kayak would be a good option for you
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The kayak flipped me over too. 😄
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Your poem made me smile, Maria, as it confirms the idea that men are from Mars and women are from Venus. Although, saying that, I would prefer to go on adventures out on the lake in a boat and look out of windows with ‘the side with all the windows / and the beautiful view of the mountain / when it’s not hiding’. I too prefer a gentle row to a motor.
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Glad you liked it.
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