Poem: "Daddy Tortoise Goes Slow"
Nov. 21st, 2021 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It fills the "Well, that could've gone better." square in my 10-1-21 card for the Fall Festival Bingo. It has been sponsored by a pool with ng_moonmoth. This poem belongs to the Broken Angels thread of the Polychrome Heroics series, and follows "The Hog Knows the Tree."
"Daddy Tortoise Goes Slow"
[Monday, May 2, 2016]
Cas was taking out the morning trash
when Ti-Jean came home covered in mud.
Literally covered: he was slicked in it from
head to foot, and some of it was thin enough
that it dripped slowly off of his long body.
"Well, that could've gone better,"
Ti-Jean muttered, scraping mud
off his face with both hands.
It stank horribly of marsh.
"Dare I ask what happened?"
Cas said gently, closing the lid.
The spate of irate Cajun was
too fast and furious for him
to follow with limited familiarity.
It took a couple of minutes for him
to figure out that Ti-Jean had gone
hunting over the weekend in attempt
to take advantage of the Maying.
"... chase t'damn ting all over
t'countryside and fetch up in
yo ti-marsh," he finished.
"I guess by your standards
the Lincoln Saline Wetlands
isn't very big," Cas said, smiling.
"I'll have Kato start filling buckets."
"Buckets?" Ti-Jean said. "What for?"
"So you can rinse off a bit before you
come in," said Cas. "I'd really rather
you didn't track mud from here
clear through to the bathroom."
"But we got a hosepipe right here,"
Ti-Jean said, clearly baffled. "Didn't
your boss get the water fixed?"
"Well yeah, but that'll be cold,"
Cas said. "We can bring you
something warmer from inside."
He sent Kato a text, not wanting
to leave Ti-Jean all alone out here
after a clearly awful weekend.
Ti-Jean broke into a tired grin. "I do
have an envie for some hot water."
"I'll help you clean up out here,
then we'll go inside and finish the job,"
Cas said. "Don't worry about your clothes;
I can throw those in the washer for you."
Ti-Jean shook his head. "Pockets."
Oh right, he carried all kinds of stuff
squirreled away inside his clothes.
"I'll get you something to hold
your whatevers," Cas said. He
ducked into the garage, where
he found a basket and bags.
"Here, start unloading."
By the time Ti-Jean had
shifted all his stuff, Kato was
coming out with the first bucket.
"Thanks, Kato, this will help,"
Cas said. "Keep it coming."
"Rough weekend?" Kato said,
looking at the mud on Ti-Jean.
"Mais, talk about," Ti-Jean muttered.
"Give me your clothes and I'll rinse
them at the outdoor faucet," Cas said.
"Soap up the water and start washing."
He helped Ti-Jean peel off the wet clothes,
then took them over to run under the hose.
The water came off looking like chocolate milk.
Meanwhile Ti-Jean stood shivering in his shorts,
sloshing soapy water over himself to take off
the worst of the mud that clung to him.
Kato came out with two more buckets.
"Rinse off with these, man, while I go back
for some towels and a bathrobe," he said.
Cas rolled up the wet clothes, then went
to help Ti-Jean rinse clean. He'd gotten
most of the mud off, but patches still clung.
Kato came back with towels and a robe.
They got Ti-Jean damp-dried and wrapped
so he wouldn't drip all over the floor indoors.
"You'll have to use the common bathroom
upstairs, the main floor only has a powder room,"
Cas said. "I'll heat up some soup if you like."
"Yes, please," said Ti-Jean. "Some use I am."
Cas patted him on the shoulder. "What's it
you always told me about Daddy Turtle?"
Ti-Jean chuckled. "Compe Torti va
doucement, mais li rive cote bite
pendent Compe Chivreil ape dormi.
Daddy Tortoise goes slow, but he gets
to the goal while Daddy Deer is asleep."
"So don't worry about taking it slow.
We know you'll get the job done
eventually," Cas assured him.
Ti-Jean leaned against him
briefly. "Thanks, mon ami."
"For what?" Cas asked as
they climbed the porch stairs.
"Having faith in me," said Ti-Jean.
* * *
Notes:
"Compe Torti va doucement; mais li rive cote bite pendent Compe Chivreil ape dormi,"
(compere Tortue va doucement; mail il arrive au but pendant que Compere Chevreuil dort.
"Daddy Tortoise goes slow; but he gets to the goal while Daddy Deer is asleep."
-- Creole Proverbs
A number of Cajuns have nicknames prefixed with “Tee” “Ti,” “Tit,” “T,” and so forth — all pronounced tee. This prefix is derived from the French word petit, meaning “small” or “little.” It typically denotes a namesake/junior, or else the youngest child in a family.
Ti- , Mi- , Gros- (préfixes créoles)
Read about the Lincoln Saline Wetlands.
Hosepipe: a garden hose.
Envie [ah(n)-vee] A longing or hunger to do or eat something. Other Southerners might use the word ‘hankering’ where a Cajun would use ‘envie.’ “I’ve got an envie for some boudin.”
Tataille: A monster. The thing in my nightmares. I don’t know how I left this one off the last list, considering what a chicken I was as a child.
“Go do-do right now.”
“There’s a tataille under my bed!”
Or: “Red Eye is the name of the tataille that lives in the chimney.”
Mais, talk about: But of course; obviously; you haven’t heard/said the half of it. (Thanks, Linda M.!)
“You like them Saints?”
“Mais talk about.”
Mon ami is my friend. Mes amis is my friends. Les amis is the friends.
ng_moonmoth. This poem belongs to the Broken Angels thread of the Polychrome Heroics series, and follows "The Hog Knows the Tree.""Daddy Tortoise Goes Slow"
[Monday, May 2, 2016]
Cas was taking out the morning trash
when Ti-Jean came home covered in mud.
Literally covered: he was slicked in it from
head to foot, and some of it was thin enough
that it dripped slowly off of his long body.
"Well, that could've gone better,"
Ti-Jean muttered, scraping mud
off his face with both hands.
It stank horribly of marsh.
"Dare I ask what happened?"
Cas said gently, closing the lid.
The spate of irate Cajun was
too fast and furious for him
to follow with limited familiarity.
It took a couple of minutes for him
to figure out that Ti-Jean had gone
hunting over the weekend in attempt
to take advantage of the Maying.
"... chase t'damn ting all over
t'countryside and fetch up in
yo ti-marsh," he finished.
"I guess by your standards
the Lincoln Saline Wetlands
isn't very big," Cas said, smiling.
"I'll have Kato start filling buckets."
"Buckets?" Ti-Jean said. "What for?"
"So you can rinse off a bit before you
come in," said Cas. "I'd really rather
you didn't track mud from here
clear through to the bathroom."
"But we got a hosepipe right here,"
Ti-Jean said, clearly baffled. "Didn't
your boss get the water fixed?"
"Well yeah, but that'll be cold,"
Cas said. "We can bring you
something warmer from inside."
He sent Kato a text, not wanting
to leave Ti-Jean all alone out here
after a clearly awful weekend.
Ti-Jean broke into a tired grin. "I do
have an envie for some hot water."
"I'll help you clean up out here,
then we'll go inside and finish the job,"
Cas said. "Don't worry about your clothes;
I can throw those in the washer for you."
Ti-Jean shook his head. "Pockets."
Oh right, he carried all kinds of stuff
squirreled away inside his clothes.
"I'll get you something to hold
your whatevers," Cas said. He
ducked into the garage, where
he found a basket and bags.
"Here, start unloading."
By the time Ti-Jean had
shifted all his stuff, Kato was
coming out with the first bucket.
"Thanks, Kato, this will help,"
Cas said. "Keep it coming."
"Rough weekend?" Kato said,
looking at the mud on Ti-Jean.
"Mais, talk about," Ti-Jean muttered.
"Give me your clothes and I'll rinse
them at the outdoor faucet," Cas said.
"Soap up the water and start washing."
He helped Ti-Jean peel off the wet clothes,
then took them over to run under the hose.
The water came off looking like chocolate milk.
Meanwhile Ti-Jean stood shivering in his shorts,
sloshing soapy water over himself to take off
the worst of the mud that clung to him.
Kato came out with two more buckets.
"Rinse off with these, man, while I go back
for some towels and a bathrobe," he said.
Cas rolled up the wet clothes, then went
to help Ti-Jean rinse clean. He'd gotten
most of the mud off, but patches still clung.
Kato came back with towels and a robe.
They got Ti-Jean damp-dried and wrapped
so he wouldn't drip all over the floor indoors.
"You'll have to use the common bathroom
upstairs, the main floor only has a powder room,"
Cas said. "I'll heat up some soup if you like."
"Yes, please," said Ti-Jean. "Some use I am."
Cas patted him on the shoulder. "What's it
you always told me about Daddy Turtle?"
Ti-Jean chuckled. "Compe Torti va
doucement, mais li rive cote bite
pendent Compe Chivreil ape dormi.
Daddy Tortoise goes slow, but he gets
to the goal while Daddy Deer is asleep."
"So don't worry about taking it slow.
We know you'll get the job done
eventually," Cas assured him.
Ti-Jean leaned against him
briefly. "Thanks, mon ami."
"For what?" Cas asked as
they climbed the porch stairs.
"Having faith in me," said Ti-Jean.
* * *
Notes:
"Compe Torti va doucement; mais li rive cote bite pendent Compe Chivreil ape dormi,"
(compere Tortue va doucement; mail il arrive au but pendant que Compere Chevreuil dort.
"Daddy Tortoise goes slow; but he gets to the goal while Daddy Deer is asleep."
-- Creole Proverbs
A number of Cajuns have nicknames prefixed with “Tee” “Ti,” “Tit,” “T,” and so forth — all pronounced tee. This prefix is derived from the French word petit, meaning “small” or “little.” It typically denotes a namesake/junior, or else the youngest child in a family.
Ti- , Mi- , Gros- (préfixes créoles)
Read about the Lincoln Saline Wetlands.
Hosepipe: a garden hose.
Envie [ah(n)-vee] A longing or hunger to do or eat something. Other Southerners might use the word ‘hankering’ where a Cajun would use ‘envie.’ “I’ve got an envie for some boudin.”
Tataille: A monster. The thing in my nightmares. I don’t know how I left this one off the last list, considering what a chicken I was as a child.
“Go do-do right now.”
“There’s a tataille under my bed!”
Or: “Red Eye is the name of the tataille that lives in the chimney.”
Mais, talk about: But of course; obviously; you haven’t heard/said the half of it. (Thanks, Linda M.!)
“You like them Saints?”
“Mais talk about.”
Mon ami is my friend. Mes amis is my friends. Les amis is the friends.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2021-11-22 08:23 pm (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2021-11-22 08:50 pm (UTC)*ponder* Cattails are widespread in ditches, catchment ponds, etc. They hear a lot, even if people don't talk to them on purpose. So that might be useful in tracking the beasties.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2021-11-22 10:44 pm (UTC)There are also several tales of humans and humanlike beings asking to be turned into plants to escape some misfortune. (Make of that what you will.)
Laurel and Mint...and that elderly couple who hosted Zeus and 'asked not to be separated in death.'
Plants are often used as literary symbols of the afterlife, or love after death...the folk song Barbara Allen, for example.
Please not my examples are from Western / Old World mythology and folklore, as that is what I am most familiar with. It is possible that Turtle Island folklore might have entirely different opinions on things, which might fit better to this setting.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2021-11-25 07:14 am (UTC)http://www.native-languages.org/legends-cattail.htm