Northern Verses: Poems of Alaska and the Yukon
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About this ebook
Dennis Lattery
Dennis Lattery arrived as an eight year old, fresh off the boat, at Juneau, Alaska, in April of 1949. Born in Vancouver, British Columbia, with the exception of two years United States military service in “The Lower Forty-eight,” he has lived continuously in Alaska since that time. His writing career began in 1976 with an article published in Selected Alaska Hunting & Fishing Tales by Alaska Magazine. He has been published since then in a number of national sports magazines and has produced a book about growing up and living in the Forty-ninth State. Dennis and his wife, Sharon, live in Chugiak, Alaska. His daughter and son-in-law live in nearby Anchorage. He can be reached at lattery@alaska.net.
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Northern Verses - Dennis Lattery
Miner
BILLY JOHNSON’S PARTY
It was Billy Johnson’s birthday
And Dawson friends had planned a feast.
On the first boat from St. Michael
Came a pair of cloven beast.
The plan they made was simple,
They would have a drink or two.
The boys providing liquor
And the porkers barbeque.
They set up the party area
Behind the Malamute Saloon
With a fire pit for the cooking
And tables well festooned.
Long before the cooking started
Party staff were on their way
To various states of inebriation
Despite the hour of the day.
John Biggs was cooking master,
He had lots of cooking skill.
He set about butchering portions
He could handle on the grill.
Right in the middle of this process
Distraction came to intervene.
His knife slid off a meat bone
And cut off a finger clean!
It was a lucky thing that old Doc Green
Had been included in the revel.
He was a fair old country doctor but, right now,
As plastered as the devil!
They rushed Biggs to Doc Green’s office,
John too soused to feel much pain.
I’ll make medical history,
the doctor mumbled,
And reconnect the thing again.
Back at the birthday party
The cooking was resumed
Another chef stepped in the fray
And the barbeque consumed.
Early come next morning
A terrible mistake had come to light
Doc Green had sewed a meaty pork bone
Onto Biggs’ stump last night.
Since that fateful cook-out,
One question continues to linger,
For sure a feast was had by all,
But where was Biggs’ finger?
BREAKING TRAIL
Established trails folks seek and like to travel
Are popular and sought with great renown.
But in my view just like the fabled headgear,
Too many jewels can spoil the crown.
The ease of a well constructed pathway
With a foot bridge crossing every creek
Represent both the comfort and the security
Which most average hikers seek.
But I prefer to find myself a new path
To secret spots that few have seen.
An open ridge, a path that only moose know,
Through berry patches where the bears have been.
I have myself a private little waterfall
And picked blue flowers that have no name.
But I’m not sure that I could locate either
If I chose to go that way again.
But this is the way that I prefer it,
To move about and breath a solo breathe.
I’ll keep my little trails a guarded secret
And never love my chosen paths to death.
BOATING WHALE PASSAGE
There are few things I can recollect
No matter how I try
As vivid moments in this life of mine
When I suspected I might die.
One such awful moment that I recollect,
A terror in its class,
Was in the dark aboard the Sally T
When we hove up to Whale Pass.
Whale Passage is a narrow channel
With rocks across its eastern mouth.
Whale Island sits on the north side
And Kodiak Island to the south.
Nautical charts for here are quick to note
That danger is extended
And when boating through this narrow Pass
Prior experience is recommended.
To make things all the worse that night
An ebbing tide flowed from the west
Opposed by a potent northeast wind –
Conditions were not the best.
Nick Troxell was captain of the boat that night
At the wheel of the Sally T.
The Seiner was fifty feet, or more, in length,
And as trim as a ship could be.
Nick owned a remote tract of beach-front land
And I had bought the place.
I was hauling goods aboard his boat
And he would vacate his cabins space.
He had fished these bays and inlets
And he knew them very well.
The weather it was very foul that night,
At least …as far as I could tell.
As we steamed into the Passage mouth,
Between Shag and Ilkognak rocks,
I began