Sunday, April 4, 2010

the hunt



We banded
together in our foxhole
on the curve of the steps,
my uncles and I, sweating bullets,
waiting for the blitz.

Baskets? Not in the 50s.
Those were for sissies.
We looted with pots and pans.
Industrial strength.
Post war Americans.

Was it my imagination
or were eggs bigger then?
Four filled my saucepan.
Ample for a regiment.



willow, 2010



For more Magpie Tales participants click [HERE].

Happy Easter, my friends!

53 comments:

  1. Eggs were certainly bigger then! Even this year compared to last year, eggs are not so big! I wonder what's going on?
    Blessings, Star

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ahhh, Willow poetry on Easter Sunday, what a blessing!

    Have a great day! Hope you find the most eggs.

    S

    ReplyDelete
  3. Happy Easter Willow.

    I love you version of the hunt!

    ReplyDelete
  4. And the hunt is on.....hope you find the golden egg!

    ReplyDelete
  5. nice response willow. can i say this: it's not the size of the symbol but how you use it. ha!! steven

    ReplyDelete
  6. The chicken eggs I remember from childhood were smaller. My country was poor, the chickens did not fare any better than the humans when it came to food.
    Your poem, as always, is wonderful. Wishing you a joyous Easter.

    ReplyDelete
  7. You never fail to delight Willow.
    There's a short story here conveyed in three stanzas

    ReplyDelete
  8. wonderful magpie willow...love the air of reminiscence in this one...and the battle to capture the eggs...

    ReplyDelete
  9. Dear Willow, What an original and evocative posting which in so few lines conveys a world of meaning and recalls a time which, in all probability, will be no more. I did feel that the image of 'sweated bullets' was very powerful indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Ohhhhh! How apt! The hunt, the battle. Lovely!

    ReplyDelete
  11. Lovely post! I can so remember those days....What fun! Our hunts were typically on church property!! I have not really thought that through until now!
    Linda

    ReplyDelete
  12. Really liked this willow. Happy Easter!

    ReplyDelete
  13. How cute! I'm sure the eggs were bigger too.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Good one, Willow! You the . . woman!

    ReplyDelete
  15. were the eggs bigger or is it just that we were smaller?

    ReplyDelete
  16. Suki, I think it's just that we were smaller. I remember the eggs fitting in my hand like a baseball!

    ReplyDelete
  17. LOL! I love this post! Yes, things were different in the 50's. Ha

    ReplyDelete
  18. As usual, I had to write mine first and THEN come look at yours. I needn't have worried - you were off on a totally different aspect than me. I loved the visual of you going to war in the battle for eggs - reminds me of my nephews when they were young (of course, my mother put MONEY in plastic eggs for them, so there was more on the line!).

    ReplyDelete
  19. Love the saucepan egg hunt! Happy Easter!

    ReplyDelete
  20. Dear Willow, Happy Easter,
    wonderful writing..

    yvonne

    ReplyDelete
  21. Oh my...I've just discovered your blog through Brabourne Farm. When am I going to get any work done now! A feast for all the senses.

    ReplyDelete
  22. What a wonderful poem to take me back to childhood and all its imaginings!

    Rick

    ReplyDelete
  23. I'm not sure if eggs were bigger or just that, with the eyes of children, they seemed that way. Lovely poem.

    ReplyDelete
  24. Great memories with the Unks. Our grandkids used platic bowls this weekend for their hunting of the eggs. Then they hid them for us to find, so this dear Unk was still hunting eggs this year : )

    ReplyDelete
  25. Earlier today we were sitting out watching some very small children hunting for eggs. It made us sad our children and grands are all grown now. No egg hunts but I always have something for them. It was a beautiful day. Your poem is amazing.
    QMM

    ReplyDelete
  26. Pots and pans at the ready... the hunt is on!

    ReplyDelete
  27. Who knew kids need a full metal jacket for hunting chocolate eggs? It's a battle out there, these are chocolate eggs you're talking about! You must have brothers or, like me, defied description and climbed trees, etc. Glad you got into the strategy of the game. Sounds like you held your own Willow! Excellent piece; so much said in so few words takes fine art egg award! Do you have the hx on the Russian egg..so intriguing! Beguiling! Do tell!

    ReplyDelete
  28. Ah, the taste of the hunt! A charming story!

    ReplyDelete
  29. Chicco, the painted egg is one of the things WT brought back from his many trips to Russia.

    ReplyDelete
  30. Happy Easter, Willow!

    Love the poem. Thanks for that.

    ReplyDelete
  31. I LOVE your header, your poetry--todo!

    ReplyDelete
  32. Directly ready to be cooked? What hopes could have the hens for their stolen progeny?

    ReplyDelete
  33. Pots and pans would be my container of choice too.

    ReplyDelete
  34. Willow

    Loved the use of three different stanza's woven together -- and especially in that catchy middle verse "Baskets? Not in the 50s.
    Those were for sissies. . ."

    Joanny

    ReplyDelete
  35. So nice, where your muse led you with this one!

    Hoping your Easter eggs this year were all the right size.

    ReplyDelete
  36. Hello Willow,

    Happy Easter Monday! I hope you're not overcome by too much chocolate. The eggs definitely were bigger then, despite the fact that we were so much smaller. And, do you know, I've never been in an egg hunt. I had a deprived childhood!

    ReplyDelete
  37. I feel the same way...the eggs are SHRINKING!

    Lovely poem.

    ReplyDelete
  38. Willow, we were indeed like an army, heading out on the hunt! And we were tough (as in my Easter poem)--every year a fight broke out over the Prize Egg or the most eggs.
    This poem makes me smile!

    ReplyDelete
  39. That is the funniest tale about Easter egg hunting ever! :-)

    Saucepans must have been smaller back then, I'd say. I watched hens when they were laying eggs back when I was a child, and I am sure they are still as crafty at producing them as they were back then! At least the ones that are allowed to run free and scratch for bugs. ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  40. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  41. OH, what a wonderful, wonderful poem. The imagery is perfect! I have written a little poem and now have to muster the courage to actually post it tomorrow!!!

    ReplyDelete
  42. Thank you for this lovely journey back in time, Willow. I think eggs are about the same. We just categorize them differently.

    ReplyDelete
  43. Pots and pans instead of baskets...I love that. I hope your Easter was as wonderful as your poem.

    ReplyDelete
  44. "Ample for a regiment": ample for an ending. =)

    ReplyDelete
  45. We used to roll ours down a hill at a golf course. Never had a hunt, sadly. Love your poem.

    Kat

    ReplyDelete
  46. Precious!

    Hope you had a lovely Easter!

    ReplyDelete
  47. Hmmm - that marvellous battle imagery. What were you kids going to do with those Easter eggs anyway?

    ReplyDelete
  48. boy oh boy...
    this place is lookin' pretty darn
    slick.
    love it.

    ReplyDelete

Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)