Those years I regret

Looking back I really hate myself

That adventurous young teen

That explored the woods and fields

Hoping to find butterlies

To take them home, pinning them

In a box to display the all to see

Getting lists of lists of those rare ones

That might be found in the woods

Or skimming over the ponds or streams

Just a short distant walk from home

They were of course beautiful

But not so much when they were dead

And now in my advanced years

I very much enjoy seeing them fly

Flitting over the garden flowers

Tasting the many plants nectar

But lasting little more that summer

Before time is called for them

As cool autumn says time is up

And their offspring breed next year

Boys love water

                                                                         

All boys love water except when they need a bath

Well that was me as a young lad whose idea was fun

Whether it was rain or shine to find adventure

By going to the river that ran through the town

Remove my shoes and sock to wade in the water

Tiptoeing through the grass to hear the water surge

As cold as ice it was spilling over the weir

Singing a sea shanty wishing I had a boat

To sail away swaying on the seas rising tide

Watching the gulls crying to others overhead

Sat on a rock with a towel over my head

All day I could play but I had to watch the time

But I wasn't really there but staying at home

As I woke from dreaming it was raining outside

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Attracted to water

 

I was attracted to water

When I was but a young boy

Whether it was a rippling stream

Or a slow drifting river

Even lakes silently calm

Where I'd be on most weekends

My nearest water close home

Midst of trees whispering on

Was where I'd go out to hide

With birds chirping in their nests

Which silent came as I came

'Til they knew I was a friend

As the sun arced high in the sky

And butterflies glided around

I wished too that I had wings

In azure sky flying high

Arcing over hills and bends

Leaves settling on surface day's end

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Days long past

 

And do you yearn for days long past?

When there was post in the mail box

Our chipped china was still used

As it was wartime with little to buy

Dad mended broken pots and pans

Growing vegetables in the garden

And us kids wore threadbare clothes

Which mother mended at the weekend

She worked too, and had job to make ends meet

As most fathers were away fighting the war

With wives crying for them every night

Giving the kids soapy baths all right

Showers no around in those days

No one drove then petrol was rationed

Shops never had catalogues in those times

They only sold what was available

So tyhere were queues everywhere

And as the day would draw to a close

Windows blackout curtains would be drawn

So that light from inside would not shine through

Which might be seen by enemy aircraft

Flyng overhead set to bomb factories

Looking for the designated targets

Or drop their bombs anywhere they could

While us kids slept in air raid shelters

Listening to their drone overhead

As they searched the target that was set

But as I was youngest one at home

Was usually fast asleep quite unaware

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Who am I?

I wasn't too welcome on being born, for my brother who was two years older than me found that I was getting all the good things he once had so he planned a war of revenge on this wiling bundle currently clinging to him and my mother and gorging myself on gallons of her milk!

I couldn't do much as he did, such as running around the house and garden. I just crawled around the floor, under tables and chairs bumping my head against dog, walls and doors without the ability to open them as I couldn't yet stand to reach the door handle.

However all that changed when my legs finally stood up and I could totter around making a mess of everything that crossed my path. One day my brother was sitting at the table playing with toys or using pencil or crayons to draw things with of which I knew nothing,

I was keen though and tried to sit at the table with him.He helped by getting me to climb on a chair  then let me sit on the table to see what he was doing. He seem quite pleased so just for fun he took all the chairs away and decided to leave me there.

Needless to say I wanted to follow him so I slipped off the table and fell on the floor and started wailing out loud. It was then that mother rushed in and found this screaming child. Her elder son however was oblivious to the event (so he said).

What a great example in life was installed in me all those years ago...trust no-one! Mind you this never happened again but I realized that life is not easy. However I was now alert to the dangers of life.

So when I too married and became a father, I made sure that I would spend as much time as possible to be with my children and ensure that they found life adventurous and fun...but not sitting on the table.

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The ripening corn

What I liked as a kid

Was laying in a field out the back

Amid the stalks of ripening corn

Watching the butterflies flutter about

With the wide clear blue sky overhead

So glad that I had been born

I felt that I could sing

(Teacher said "T'was like a cross cut saw")

As I lay there quite safe out of sight

This sunny day of schools summer break

As I sank in my nest by myself

Warmed by the Sun's bright light

I'm no longer that boy

That tender age has long passed me by

When sliding on ice was just the thing

But kissing girls was not on the cards

The boy I was, just a speck of dust

Take me back...and I'll sing!

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Maisie's Rosary

 

Maisie was an old lady down our street

Who scared us kids if ever we did meet

She wore a rosary our parents said

The cross of which that was made of bone

From her dead husband's fingers; how we moaned!

Which made us scared before we went to bed

We would laugh at the tale when were older

And would pass her house when we were bolder

For it was one way she still had him close

Ma said it was because she loved him so

Dad said it was she wouldn't let him go

Young sis Ann covered her ears filled with dread

The second of two

I was the second of two

Which was sad as a wee lad

I was bad news for my bro

He bullied me so I was sad

If Ma would see the fine day

"Off you go my little ones"

She would send us out to play

Brother jumped and broke my arm bone

Soon worked out he's enemy

Chose my friends as he was bad

Once left me high in a tree

Other kids came so I was glad

Broken bones and bruises too

Soon taught me to choose my mates

Saw him at home; outside adieu

So left him at the garden gates

We both grew up quite apart

He teased me when we were home

But different schools for a start

Then later, off I went to roam

Saw little of him for years

He wed twice to stunning girls

Both brides ended it with tears

That's life as it's all twists and twirls

But I still remember him

And the girls that he let go

Shouldn't have chose a life grim

Just started so wrong years ago 

Kids and trains

 

Kids want to be train drivers 

Steaming through town and country

Black soot now wiped from their faces

Engine whistling on dark nights

Clatters through 'til break of day

Now crossing plains to the bay

Then as a youth I fancied painting

A career with brush in hand

Sketching nudes on my easel

With me daubing on the paint

To show work in gallery

With a names that's legendary

Perhaps I'll dance the tango

With maiden with raven hair

As others watch with envy

This cute professional pair

Bodies close and backs full sway

Dancing all the night away

But some choose to take up law

By proving that black is white

Forever telling their truth

To flatten the other side

Putting case in dustbin

Wanting nothing but to win

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One last kiss

When I was young I saw many things
As boys do their eyes ever agog
When they played in the fields, woods and streams
For this old man it now fills my dreams
I drift to sleep in my lonely bed
Won't be long before I too am dead

Now my dreams are filled with my full past
Living through wars with identity cards
Hearing the drone of planes overhead
Going on bus for a penny each time
Never complaining about food I ate
Always swinging on our garden gate

When a teen, sports and girls filled my mind
'Til the right one crossed my path one day
Just started work and was free as a bird
Being with her best thing in the world
Greatest find after a few years search
Within a year we married in church

Now here I am and dreaming again
An old man now left all by himself
Seeing loving family such a prize
Sat in my armchair quite satisfied
Who could ever want more than this
Except from you my love; one last kiss

Image found at www.pixabay.com

Yesterday when things were worse

Wake up to the sirens drone
I was small but not alone
Sound was like a mournful scream
Blinds drawn so our lights are not seen

I am a small boy once again
See my mother's eyes in pain
Dad's in London fire watching
It is wartime no time to sing

We hear the planes up in the sky
Can't look out even if I try
Blackout curtains do make sure
If light seen warden will knock door

Under the table we huddle
Pillows, blankets and cuddle
Quietly I fall asleep
Wake up in bed heard not one peep

Mother must have put me to bed
Now it's morning I'm not dead
So must get up, off to school
Can't miss the bus that is the rule

The bus is late, I can see why
Buildings bombed Mum starts to cry
Hoping dad will soon come back
Working all night he'll hit the sack

Dad arrived when we got back home
Shrapnel gift from a dropped bomb
Showed it off at school next day
Kids crowd around at break for play

I liked watching planes overhead
Or listen to them when in bed
War's horrid I've seen it all
Still recall it now standing tall

Image found at https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00x543b

Children in war

My wife and I were but children in war
Both living in small town at both ends so far
I lived at one end and she at the other
She had a sister and I had a brother
She went to school at end of main road
A short walk for her from place of abode
But for I had to catch a bus from my home
School not open when arrived so roamed
Us three kids would play wherever we could
Like derelict buildings or copse or wood

My wife and sister wouild run to their school
They were good and never played the fool
Air raids were frequent shelter was not close
Always would run there, were scared I suppose
Once when teacher was urging them along
She tripped on the pavement and face went bong
It cut her lip but was merely taped up
She got home later for mum to fix up
It was hardly noticeable all her life
But she mentioned it when she was my wife



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Like most boys

We put newspaper for helmets on heads
As the spring rain drizzled down from above
But we were boys running home after school
Still splashing in puddles or finding shade
Seizing the moment and quite unafraid

No way we'd say a prayer for it to stop
Or hope that we'd quickly get to back door
Seeing the spiralling water rush down
For most boys like us lived for this moment
Whatever weather it was heaven sent

We'd never forgive ourselves missing out
The world was our oyster every day
Like all boys we did things all our own way
Now glimmering sun shone high in the cloud
Got home bedraggled and shouting out loud

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Being a small thing

I remember me being a small thing
When I was young oh so many years ago
All was big in my world, dad, mum and brother
First of all things suited me fine back then
Cuddled, fed, cooed and wet my diapers
Not knowing that there were lots more capers
Like crawling on the floor getting grubby
And as a wee child wetting my nappy!

These small things pass as indeed did I
Once I criedfo r milk and change of nappy
Now was brother who made me unhappy
Who saw me as one who stole his mum
So he teased me when she was out of sight
Getting me tro climb on the furniture
Once leaving me on top of the table
As getting down, I just was not able!

Lucky being small lasted a short time
At five I had to go to the junior school
But at playtimes we could all play the fool
Running, jumping just to unwind outside
Seeing the girls skip was no disgrace
And so being small was not half bad
Learning things inside and outside as well
So now then I could my story as well 

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Sent upstairs

I woke with a start, I'd been dreaming
Back being that seven year old boy
So many years ago in wartime
Dad grew vegetables in the garden
We were hungry as food was rationed
Parents both at work we helped ourselves

I chewed on last crust from the bread bin
Mother worked at grocery shop in town
"Behave yourselves" she said when leaving
But that was never my brothers way
For he did eye my prize jealously
But I ate it up which made him cross

Our job was to start cooking the meal
That Mum had prepared much earlier
But we had been too busy playing
Or checking Dad's vegetable garden
Pity they were not ready to eat
That is when my brother checked the clock

Both open mouthed stared at each other
For Mum would be back home very soon
As we were supposed to light the gas
Food should be cooking when she arrived
We had eaten every scrap of food 
Delving in each corner of kitchen's realm

Onion and peas sandwich just for a start
Three last biscuits each from the tin
And cheesy breath from Dad's Camembert
Pungent not to teens untrained taste
Which improved our knowledge of food store
Part peeled green apple chucked in the waste

And so it was Ma did her head in
On seeing such an unholy mess
Worst of all was finding the poor cat
Miaowing sadly in the bread bin
Mum cried at seeing such a to do
And we were sent straight upstairs to bed

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This is a mostly true story of a memory of mine from WW2 when with both parents working two pre teens were left at home to manage with not unexpected results, we weren't fed until the next day!

The sea's salty smell

Summer holidays once took us to sea
Mum and Dad and my brother don't you see
Went to grandparents with whom we did board
Which those days was all that we could afford

If the sun decided to shine for us
We would walk to the beach or take a bus
To sit on the sand or the pebbly bit
Depending entirely what the tide saw fit

In those days I hadn't been taught to swim
So to wade in the shallows was my whim
Or collect shells and pebbles that looked good
To show to Ma while she prepared food

The promenade I'd walk with no cares
While parents dozed off in their deckchairs
I'd try my hand on the small putting green
Or ride the sideshows though still not a teen

Later on I went to the coast alone
With cousin we walked miles being windblown
Going to flicks despite were underage
Were both tall so never caused an outrage

Many years have passed since those long gone days
Married now with kids of our own, hip hurrays
A distant country is where I'm now living
But the seas salty smell is still giving

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Home is people

The church bells are ringing calling us to prayer
I held my mothers hand as we made our way there
The streets were full of shadows as dawn was so shy
Felt cold despite my coat, wished in bed I'd still lie

I spied the spire now rising tall above the town
Dad glanced at his watch, hated being late, face a frown
He'd served in the war and liked punctuality
As mournful bells stopped ringing we made our entry

We found our seats at the side just as the choir sang
Stood up when the priest spoke, then the service began
He talked of Jesus's birth and dying on the cross
A crib was set up, candles lit and brass all gloss

The service lasted quite some time, I fell asleep
Cuddled up with mum I do not recall a peep
I woke when hearing the final hymn when sung
The we all left the church and bells of joy were rung

I had heard nothing of baby in the manger
Or how Jesus preached to all despite the danger
But was eager to get home to open presents
Now years later somehow it all seems to make sense

What a strange world we live with war and peace still here
War is encouraged to weaken and install fear
Much false news spoke often, wild rumors reign supreme
Feuding is encouraged and peace but a wild dream

But home is full of people and they all love me
So while mother makes our lunch I play happily
Father Christmas brought presents sitting by the tree
Christmas is great for boys and I was only three

Image found at Pixabay.com

Water under the bridge

When I think of childhood I think of me
Seven years old wading in the cool stream
My socks and shoes under the willow tree
Playtime for boy in wartime...but was free

The bombers raided in dead of night
Dropping their loads indiscriminately
Didn't have shelter so hid under stairs
Or kitchen table sleeping, without cares

Thankfully in daytime bombers were few
Walked to school or caught bus if had fare
But when we were let out at half past three
We'd run down to the river happily

There we would play for hour under the bridge
Despite barefoot we'd all get soaking wet
But dried off on our long walk home for tea
I loved playing by that bridge happily

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Beppo

As a young boy about five
I wanted to own a doll
There was just brother and me
Mother shook her head sadly
And just said "We'll see, we'll see"

So she searched for an old one
And asked a neighbour to help
Whose young girl had quite a few
The little girl stood her ground
Shook head, no doll to be found

So as Christmas now drew near
Woke early to find my gifts
Glad to find Santa bought me one
Not a doll but stuffed monkey
Called it Beppo, happy me!

I loved that toy many years
Mended lots as he wore out
Where I went he did too
Slept with me every night
I never woke in a fright

The family moved one year
To nicer house in next town
Found Beppo hadn't come too
Tears were shed I was but nine
Got bike instead, which was fine

In case you ask; yes, this is a true story of me many years ago.

A child in wartime

I wake up to the sirens drone
I was small but not alone
Sound was like a mournful scream
Blinds drawn so our lights are not seen

I am a small boy once again
See my mother's eyes in pain
Dad's in London fire watching
It is wartime no time to sing

We hear the planes up in the sky
Can't look out even if I try
Blackout curtains do make sure
If light seen warden will knock door

Under the table we huddle
Pillows, blankets and cuddle
Quietly I fall asleep
Wake up in bed heard not one peep

Mother must have put me to bed
Now it's morning I'm not dead
So must get up, off to school
Can't miss the bus that is the rule

The bus is late, I can see why
Buildings bombed Mum starts to cry
Hoping dad will soon come back
Working all night he'll hit the sack

Dad arrived when we got back home
Shrapnel gift from a dropped bomb
Showed it off at school next day
Kids crowd around at break for play

I liked watching planes overhead
Or listen to them when in bed
War's horrid I've seen it all
Still recall it while standing tall

Image found at https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00x543b