The Storytellers
Julie Buffaloe-Yoder
They tell stories they learned
in school, take off their shoes,
black out a tooth, put on
straw hats to look cute.
.
They hold their hands
the way the teacher
told them to
.
talk about possums
and articulate with
just enough
dramatic accent
.
to make the crowd
in the auditorium go
hee hee and a haw haw.
.
Then they get in SUV’s
and drive back to
gated communities.
.
Old Mr. Orrie tells stories
at the Fish House for hours
on a black dock that rocks
when waves lap against it
.
under a full moon that burns
a gold hole through heaven.
.
He carves a loon decoy
while he talks, sun hard arms
a criss cross of white scars.
.
Curls of wood fall
soft in the rhythm.
Feathers appear
with a whisper
of his hands.
.
When the spirit moves him,
Mr. Orrie picks up his guitar
and sings Lonesome Wind
for a while, then tells us
.
about that spring in ’48 when
a gale came down from the north.
It rained blue crabs for three days.
.
That was the first time
Mr. Orrie learned how
to catch a headwind and
make his shrimp boat fly.
.
Beside the neverending tale
of live oaks and salty roots
.
he didn’t once
talk about
possum stew
.
and he didn’t
go to school
or charge us
a rusty penny.
.
.
Oh, Jules – how I wish I could sit on the dock with Mr. Orrie and hear those wonderful tales. But, then again, being here is like sitting on an old salty dock with the waves lapping at my feet – listening to you spin yarn after yarn. You’re a storyteller most extraordinaire!
Love the way you showed us the new and the old storytellers, each having their own appreciative audiences – and what has been boiled down to stereotype and the genuine article. Very affecting.
under a full moon that burns
a gold hole through heaven.
and
Curls of wood fall
soft in the rhythm.
Feathers appear
with a whisper
of his hands.
These words gracefully lift my poetic sense of wonder. Thank you!
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Thank you, K! You always make my day, and I do appreciate all the nice words. I actually think it’s great that people are learning storytelling in school. It’s good that people are interested. But a couple of “Southern” storytelling presentations I’ve seen in the past year or two have gotten me riled up…ha! One lady actually blacked out her tooth. Writing about it helps keep me from screaming in public. I laugh when I say that, but it’s really true, isn’t it? Thank you so much, K. It’s good to see you:) -Julie
Oh, my goodness! Julie, I love, love, love this!!
The contrast of the schoolchild program for the audience’s entertainment with Old Mr. Orrie, who can’t stop himself from telling tales that mean something, is a great reminder of the grit and reality of the people with scarred arms and real experience who don’t live in gated communities and imagine life.
The narrative frame is perfection! I read your work and think every time how talented you are and that this is what a poem should be and do.
There are too many good images to point out, but here are a few that I really love:
“a black dock that rocks
when waves lap against it
under a full moon that burns
a gold hole through heaven” (This is a whole poem in
itself!)
and
“sun hard arms
a criss cross of white scars.”
and
“Curls of wood fall
soft in the rhythm.
Feathers appear
with a whisper
of his hands.”
I could go on. Love the raining blue crabs, the live oaks, the salty roots, and the rusty penny.
I really love this all. Every time I read one of yours, I think it’s my favorite. I think that now. This is master poetry.
From the pote laurellette, no less. What did I expect?
I’m so glad I found my way to your site. You lift my heart.
Hi, Karen! I’m so glad you’re here, too. It’s weird, but I can’t even remember how we met…just that I’m glad we did. You and K sure feel like kin:) It’s so nice to know you. Thank you very much!
The scenario I mentioned above just about floored me. That wasn’t the only one. I hate stereotypes of any kind. But I guess that’s what makes money. I mean, shoot…look at Hollywood.
Okay, I’ll hop off the soapbox now…LOL! Thanks again, Karen.
Hi Julie–I love this too. I totally agree with K that the distinction between the two storytellings is perfect. The tone and pace of the first is so clipped and cold – so many t sounds and almost a sing-songish quality and then it switches to
Old Mr. Orrie tells stories
and my mouth changes shape completely…the world opens up with the brilliance and fluidity of word sounds.
Hi, Brigindo! Thanks so much. I really tried at that tone shift, so I’m glad it comes through. I don’t usually like to shift tone, but it seemed like it would be appropriate with this one to show the two voices. I was a little worried I should have written two poems instead of incorporating them into one, so I appreciate that feedback.
I always think about your comments for a long time, and they’ve been very helpful. It’s always so good to see you:)
Nice juxtaposition … that’s my two dollar word for the day. Again, your poetry has such powerful imagery.
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Two dollar words are great! Thanks so much, JR. -Julie
Julie, you’ve cast a spell again.
“under a full moon that burns
a gold hole through heaven.”
Sigh. It’s just marvellous x
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Thank you, Michelle! Carolina moons put me in a trance:) They’re great for stories, too. -J
This is so beautiful, the contrast so well done. I’d love to listen to him too.
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Hi, Jo! Thank you very much. I hope your day’s going well. -J
Julie, this is without doubt one of the finest narrative poems I have had the privilege to read in a quite a long time.
I love the conciseness found in the first 5 stanza then the truth of the art of real story telling found in the rest.
A fine, fine thing you have accomplished here.
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Hi, Walking Man. Is it okay if I call you that? If you prefer something else, just let me know. Thanks so much for your kind words. It has been a pleasure to meet you and read your work. -Julie
Hi Julie, I love this poem, and I love everyone’s comments. They say what I’d like to say, and so much better! I read the poem, and every word, every sound, every thought, played perfectly in my mind. It is superbly crafted, and captures the distinction between the two story tellers. Old Mr. Orrie shines.
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Thanks so much, Annie. I’m glad you had a great trip. I might have already said that, but…I’m goofy:) I can remember details of dreams or things that happened when I was two, but I can’t remember what I did two minutes ago…ha! Weird but true! Anyway, I’m glad it was good and that you’re back. -Julie
Julie, this reminds me so much of a friend I had in San Juan Bautista who farmed his 1 acre field across the street from where I lived. When he was a boy he fought in the Mexican revolution. Sometimes he’d take a break from farming and sit on the steps of the old community center building and I’d sit and listen to him tell stories about Mexico. This poem reminds me of him, and makes me want to write about him.
And I love your ‘dis’ of the stereotype southern boy performers who just want to make me hurl.
Your writing always just gets me so deep, I know I’ve said this like a million times, but the way you capture a soul in your poems is just not duplicated anywhere, you are amazing.
Hi, Cat! He sounds like an awesome person! Yes, please do write the poem, because I would love to read it! I wish I could have listened to him on the steps of the old community center building. The man, the steps, the old building, and the stories…there’s a poem!!
I go off on a tangent, as usual…ha! Your story gets me excited. People, especially older people, fascinate me. They have a world to teach us. Lately, I’ve been meeting other people who have told me their stories, and it has really helped me learn. I admire their strength.
Thanks so much, Cat. Your kind words mean a lot to me. I’m serious when I say I would love to read your poem:)
Julie, another terrific story/poem. I have not read anyone better than you at this narrative tale poetry.
Folklore is a doctoral program at some universities, or at least was. You remind me of all the brouhaha in the sixties just before the Hippies, when folk music was going strong, getting commercialized. I remember the purists, who would spurn the commercial stuff, playing old time instruments even, and then there were the real ones, who had been playing all along, and some of them happy to use modern music making techniques, wondering what all that other purist stuff was all about. I still remember all that because the folk music craze was when I decided I was going to learn the guitar. I eventually built a repertoire of my own but never performed much.
Songs Arrive In The Air
When I listen your
stories take me up and I
fly south to season’s
end, to the green sea
found there, to the low sandy
hills of the old shore.
When I listen songs
arrive in the air above
and I remember.
Hello, Christopher! Thank you for the kind words and the poem. I love it. It always blows me away that you take the time to do that, and it is most appreciated.
I’ve been told that there’s an MFA program for storytelling in one of the universities in my state. There’s also a folklore society. I think those things are awesome. I really am happy that people want to keep the culture alive. I think it’s great when people make money from it, too. In my opinion, they should be showcased and rewarded for their talent. These aren’t the people who aggravate me.
The ones who aggravate me are the ones who present stereotypes (I’m not talking about people where I live, though).
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Now I’m starting to wonder if they even realize they are being disrespectful. Stereotypes are so entrenched in society. Maybe they think they are doing something good. I guess education is the key. All of those good storytellers can show the world the real picture.
Thanks again, Christopher. It’s great to talk to you.
Well done, Julie. I like the telling images, which’re why a poem lives.
Hi, Rethabile. It’s nice to see you. Thanks so much:)
Breathtaking, as usual, Miss Julie. And quite poignant.
Hi, Kimberli. Thanks so much. I gotta get over there and see what you’re up to:) The plans I was telling you about changed, but I’ll send pics as soon as I get them.
Hi Julie,
the new Big hammer is out & you’re in it.
i misplaced yr mailing address.
please send it on & I’ll send on a copy.
I like your poetry. You are welcome to send on poems
anytime.
Thanks,
Dave Roskos
POB 54
Manasquan, NJ, 08736
Hi, Dave. I’m so excited to be in Big Hammer! It is hard to even describe how much it means to me. Big Hammer is one of my favorites. I’ll send you my address today. Thanks again for putting me in there and thanks for your beautiful work.
Julie, so many of your stories are so wrought with magical realism that I so love! They make me want to cut wood or tie heavy ropes into difficult knots or make collages out of trash or something like that.
Hi, Holly. It’s so good to see you. As always, I appreciate your support and encouragement. Have a good one:)
Sighhhhh…. I want a straw hat and a blacked out tooth and old faded dress, with folks gathered round listening to my silly stories. I can identify.
girlswithoutshoes, thank you for your visits. Again, it’s nice to meet you:)