Sunday, November 19, 2017

Em and me


I opened the old iron gate and it moaned
Then clanged with annoyance as I pulled it shut
As there was no pleasing it
It was because I was free
So I breathed in the cool air
Climbed the hill to the silo
In order to walk the fields
Kicking the stubble
And singing a song
Happy as could be

The wind blows climbing to the top of the hill
I can just see the sea over the horizon
I'll go there when I'm older
That is when I've finished school
Me and Em will run away
Worm our way out one dark night
Have to oil the hinges first
Be gone by first light
Off down to the coast
Happy as can be

Ma was not all that cross I'd run off that day
All she said was "Wondered when you would get back"
Em just grinned at me licking
Some cake mix from her fingers
So then she offered me some
I could see she'd been crying
She really thought I'd left home
I'd never do that
She's my sister
And will always be

Image found at www.shutterstock.com

Note: I am aware that licking cake mix bowls with eggs in is frowned upon but I was just recalling my own childhood memories of 70 years ago! The story is of course fictitious.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Me and Jane


I want my childhood back
Running off down the woods
To shimmy up the trees
Swinging from the high limbs
Like Tarzan in the films
A friend of monkeys too

It's not a crime is it?
To make a wooden sword
From bits found in Dad's shed
To strap around my waist
So I can chop my way
Through thick jungle trees

Sadly I was dreaming
Roused with a gentle kiss
While I was flying high
Hanging on a jungle vine
As childhood merged slowly
Into old age once again

My dear wife smiled at me
Grinning like waxing moon
My dreamy adventure
Eased the sting of old age
But what joy to relish
This dear woman I loved

Image found at https://allhailtheblackmarket.com


Our door in the war


When we were young doors were different
They let people in didn't shut them out
Were poor as church mice like most in the street
Key was on a string behind the letterbox
Us kids would haul it up to get in then
Raid the bread bin and fight over any crust
Until Mum came home to cook a real meal
In wartime everyone was poor like us
Even the man up the street with a car
Not that he could drive it without gas
That was rationed too as most things were then
Food, clothes, even sweets, (lollies or candy)
We had to survive a week on four ounces
So had ours when we went to the flicks
Kids could never last all through the fim
What with Tarzan, cowboys and Mickey Mouse
At some time I'd dash out to the toilet
Find my way back to my seat in the dark
Then whisper to find out what happened
Lady behind us would be cross and say shush
Hoping the manager didn't throw us out
To leave us staring at the closed doors
Did once, went to the river and got wet

Image found at http://www.imdb.com/


Thursday, November 16, 2017

I remember her


I remember her
The summer holding her hand
Walking beside her

Sun on our faces
Dragonflies darting about
Breathing in the air

She was my first love
No one told me the rules
But I was happy

Reaching the hilltop
We sat looking over the town
The sun grinned at us

Steam train puffed along
Dragonfly settled on me
It wanted to talk

Was too much in love 
To listen to the message
So it flew away

And she did so too
Life was not how I had planned
Later we broke up

Walking beside her
Slowly retracing our way
Winter was to come

Image found at www.pixabay.com

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

I must be getting old


Being but a man
I have little discipline
No patience either

Gazing as I do
In moments of sublime bliss
At unaware you

Calm heroic me
Know my limits but will steal
Pieces of your heart

As I smile at you
Despite the response in kind
I notice your tears

Would the prophets say
"Go take this beauty and fly
Gently dry her eyes"

No they would say
"You are past this game old man
Write it down instead"

This poem written back in 2013 seems to reflect the person I sometimes pretend to be so thought it deserved an airing

Image found at https://www.shutterstock.com

Sunday, November 12, 2017

We never learn


I walked in this park
T'was a cemetery
And I was alone

But for the others
Who lay there so peacefully
That is what I thought

So then I sat down
My mind wandered, drifted off
In contemplation

I heard someone say
Just why are you here young man?
I struggled from sleep

Before I answered
Others began to cry out
Yes, I heard them all

Talk about bedlam
For each grave had opened up
They clamored to speak

Then the questions came
What measure of man are you
To kill your own kind?

One by one they spoke
But their skins were not as mine”
So the pit for you

What is your excuse?
“They prayed to other gods”
Fool, I still heard them

So then the next
“They spoke a foreign language”
To hell you must go

And there were more
“Our leaders told us we must”
And did you not cheer?

“I was a soldier
It was my duty to fight”
“But you killed children”

On and on they spoke
And for each was an answer
I had to protest

“Stop” I then called out
These men have all been punished
Their families too

“Silly little man
I was not speaking to them
No, I spoke to you”

Image from www.straartkaart.nl

This poem (a haiku stream) was published elsewhere back in 2014. The times seems right to resurrect it!

Friday, November 10, 2017

In Brighton Town


When I was younger maybe only thirty 
I used to live in Brighton Town
Close to the briny sea

My workplace was close to the main road in
Just as I went out for lunch
I heard a strange din

I tried to cross the busy thoroughfare
But saw a large car driving near
So I had to take some care

A large Rolls-Royce with open top
Husband and wife sat in the back
Clearly it would not stop

The woman waved to me which was so kind
I waved back, good bloke that I am
And put it out of mind

Later I caught on just who I had seen
That lady who had waved at me
Had been the bloody Queen!

Image found at http://www.motortrend.com