Leo Larry Amadore Poet Narrative

Notes About The Poem

I often think, now, of my Grandfather and those times in south Louisiana and I regret not having had more contact with him during his last years.  He took me in when I had nowhere else to go. Only very few (close relatives) will understand that last comment.  The road mentioned is La. Hwy 317, the Bayou Sale road in St. Mary Parish, Louisiana, which starts at Centerville and ends at Burns Point.

Stunning Armadillos

Trees still shade the road
where Gramps and I once rode
in his old green car -- I drove --
on dusky early evenings
in my fifteenth year.
We stopped, as he insisted, at spots
where an armadillo scratched
among the tender greenery
in ditches.
I was dispatched,
with Gramps' strong wood cane,
to kill a pesky armored creature
by striking hard, once, upon its snout.
Gramps waited in the car,
called encouragement or condemnation:
"That's it! Hit him hard!" or
"Can't you do a damn thing right?"
He knew I didn't like to kill
but was determined to toughen up
my softness.
That hard old man was not accustomed
to being crossed or contradicted.
But part of him was tender,
and he had a sense of what was right
in the bayou country of his day.
How could I tell him that I hated
killing just to please him?
Often, I killed, then killed again,
although, at times, I'd miss the snout
or be slow to follow up,
and permit an armadillo to escape.
Sometimes, I'd temper force with moderation --
I'd stun the creature, grab the tail,
fling it far into dense bushes
to revive and live another day.
My grandfather eyed me darkly then,
but often kept his peace.
He gave me the treatment
I gave those stunned armadillos.
Could he have felt the same
toward me as I toward them?

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Carol Eastman April 26, 2011 at 1:46 PM Very unusual topic... I've seen 2 armidillos from a distance in my life.. The drought brought them north into southern Missouri about 10 years ago. Interesting write.

Renee Kelly April 25, 2011 at 8:54 AM Oh! I remember seeing armadillos for the 1st ever a few years back when I lived in Texas. While not the most beautiful creatures on this planet, they seem rather docile. It seems you kept your "softness" despite your childhood :) (btw, I fixed my haiku - thanks for pointing that out!)

Michelle Mac Donald April 24, 2011 at 4:04 PM Awww...poor amadillos, Leo. Your gramps was acting ornery? Some cultures think you shouldn't kill what you won't eat...I wonder if he'd enjoy eating one. I'm not trying to be mean...I'm confused. Maybe they do damage, we've none here, so I don't know. Happy Easter, wishing you the best! Mikki

Anne Rutherford April 22, 2011 at 9:52 AM Wonderful memories here, i could see this as I read. good to see you here , great place to be. Anne

Debra Squyres April 22, 2011 at 6:15 AM Love this story poem !! A joy to read again. I need a stout cane myself, my yard is full of holes. lol Yes, I like this site and how it works. Morning Dew was a repost as well as Dare to Care. The others are new. Thanks for dropping by !! Nice to see you here too. Take care of yourself !!!