I love the city

I love the city
No, not the shopping mall
Or the famous landmarks
With their fine architecture
Avoid the tourist bus
To learn the spurious traditions of a bygone past

No, come walk with me
Not in the bright sunshine
We'll wander down this dark alley
To find a separate world I know
A place that I love
Far from green lawns with flowerrs and statues

Keep your eyes open
Stare at no-one
Particularly that woman there
See those doors way up there?
That's an old warehouse
You can see an old hoist still there above

Stand here for a while
Do you hear that rumble?
Those are trains under our feet
It would be hard to sleep 
In these old houses
With that tremulous feeling all through the night

We can cross this bridge
Over a placid river
A man was thrown in and drowned
For just being different
Before the city was built
It was the native peoples camp site long ago

Each city is like this
Remembering like me
As it holds on to its chequered past
Now as we turn this corner
Here are the shops again
And the city that everyone thinks they know


Image found at www.pixabay.com

My Blossom

I called you my blossom

You were a flower for me

Just for me alone

You were generous

With an abundance of love

Life so beautiful

We enjoyed the riches

Of life’s rich fecundity

Always together

Cold and now alone

Penalized without your love

But our fruit spread wide

Many years ago when I first started blogging most of my writing was short stories or regular serial stories that lasted months until I was at last smitten (or bitten) by my poetic muse. I quickly became an enthusiast for haiku style poetry and this is one of them written in four verses although many other poems were often longer. Few were illustrated but eventually I tried to incude suitable pictures as well. As the general story telling blogs became fewer I found the poetry blogs instead.

Image found at https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-flowers-nature-people-beauty-4358718/

I made up stories

I knew nothing of literacy before I went to school
I didn't need to as I could cry, gurgle and drool
My parents got fed up with that, they thought I played the fool

First day Ma took me I didn't like it one bit
Next morning refused to go, stayed with Gran, I seemed to fit
Thereafter to school I went, was no way out of it

So then I learned to read and write to Mum and Dad's delight
Despite the war, quickly learned the ABC and was alright
When it was over we moved house, now was easy to write

I made up stories from the start, got good marks that pleased all
And made eyes with girl from my class, she liked me I was tall
Lucky was accepted to local Grammar school that fall

Not only that my mother worked in Library part time
So gorged myself on grown up books that was no crime
Pullitzer prize authors, classics and more as a pastime

Was glad too I did write a few essays that did not suck
My marks were average but exceeded at sport what luck
Then got offer as a draftsman so able to earn a buck

A few years passed and found that my wife was fun
Had won award for essay when at school and quite young
Both joined a writing club, read our stories with own tongue

Later married daughter told me of blogging site
Where I could write stories which was such fun alright
So tapped the keyboard several days at night

But found story telling blogs became fewer and fewer
So had to find the sites where poetry was the bidder
So pleased now that PU is my literary rescuer


Image found at www.freepik.com/free-photo/teen-boy-reading-quiet-library_2667043.htm

I woke from my dream

I woke from my dream, just where had I been?
Seems like three hundred years ago
I worked in an architects office
Drawing boards on benches by windows
Chatter of draftsmen, pencils in hand
Erasers sitting waiting for call

"Boss has gone on an inspection"
Says Matt, whose window faces car park
Relaxing now he now makes paper planes
Smallest models, snipped and taped up
That fly about the drawing office
For half hour or so; except one day

That was when the boss returned early
We believed we'd be safe for a spell
As we had just launched our fighter jets
Door opened and in he walked unaware
He looked at Pat then at me straight faced
"Forgot to pick up the Palmer flle"

Ignoring the paper plane on the floor
I walked to the drawer and fetched the file
As he left he gave me a small grin
"Might be a long time, it's already three"
Thirsty after that fright, tidy up
Tea girls trolley is a welcome sight

Now we really must get back to work
So cleaned scraps of paper slits off floor
Pat says "Must give him longer to go"
As he fills his fountain pen with ink
While I do my given tasks quietly
Dark now, wonder what Mum's got for tea?

Image found at https://art4clip.com/explore/Drawn%20planks20draughtsman

Curiously when I viewed the given words they allowed my to recall my very first job working in an architects office and my older workmate's passion for making paper planes in his spare time or when he was bored and this poem records the time when the boss caught us out by chance!

Family history

We caught the train at half past nine
Travelling on the country line
Where the sun all the time did shine

Searching for my roots was the aim
Others might laugh or show disdain
Knowing how to complete the chain

I might find they've been caught in crime
I need just a sliver of time 
Were they married did church bells chime?

I could design a family tree
Wife feigned surprise looked at me
What's afoot are you kidding me?

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

Kids in wartime

As a child growing up
When times were so tough
Just didn't have enough
And what we did have 
We would barter and trade

What I really liked best
In fag packets poked
That our dads smoked
Were all sorts of cards
So we'd barter and trade

With filmstars and airplanes
And fifty to collect
Swapping them the object
Each one had a value
So did barter and trade

Some were worn or torn
In albums they did not go
Were not wasted, oh no!
But kept to play a game
Not to barter and trade

Boys six feet from wall
Played game that was not hard
In turns would flick a card
Nearest to wall would win
Far too damaged to trade

Most cards issued long past
Though stopped in World War 2
Still abound for me and you
Too precious for a wall
But still barter and trade

Image found at http://kevanbundell.co.uk/blog/2014/10/21/flick-cards/


Although not a collector of cigarette cards now I was addicted to the hobby in my early school years in WW2. Even though cards in Britain were not issued then cigarette shops still had the albums available for the latest sets and my dad who worked in London could find them somewhere in the city! Most kids were serious about collecting some issues to get the whole set of 50 and use their swaps to trade for other collectables or if the cards were unpopular or worn they could be used for the wall game. Rules were loose but occasionally thirty or more cards could be won (half of them yours) by you having flicked one card nearest the wall! If you lost, too bad but not drastic as they were not usually in the best condition or you had no interest in them but they were merely ammunition for the game!

School in the 1940's

When I first started school in the 1940's it seemed I was put in a wolfs lair to be bullied at whim by all the older boys as i was totally unprepared. I wsa happier being by myself watching enemy planes flying overhead looking for a good place to drop their bombs but luckily they never chose our town ...much, unless they were on the way home being turned back by our Spitfires and Hurricanes so decided to lighten their load anywhere they could then get home quickly for tea...or schnapps.

School was a battlefield too especially if you were unprepared on the first day of the month. The bullies would then sing out to little kids like me as they came to school “A pinch and punch for the first of the month’ and then as quick as they could they would do just that simultaneously pinching your upper arm then punching you anywhere you hadn’t been quick witted enough to defend. Then to make matters worse if you quickly answered correctly “Rabbits” they would follow up shouting out and presenting you with “A push and a kick for being so quick”.

Kids have it so easy these days.




Image found at www.pinterest.com

School in the '40's

In days long gone
Treatment was harsh
Cane was handy
Teachers threw chalk at us

Keep you voice down!
Pay attention!
Speak up will you!
Come out here for the cane

"Don't" was the rule
Don't talk in class
Don't run inside
Don't start whining now

There were good bits
When the bell rang
Playing football
Walking home with friends

Our Art mistress
Sat at her desk
Sucking cough sweets
And didn't move her butt

Except to search
For her purse or 
her handkerchief
In her undergarments

Taught us nothing
Draw that vase here
Now sketch some trees 
She finally retired

Young temp came in
Smile on her face
Gathered us round
And talked to each of us

Gave us a task
Then as we worked
Walked round and spoke
To encourage us all

We all liked her
I felt special
Might even be
An artist just like her

...and I was


Image found at www.pinterest.com

Time travel

She is beautiful, her age is 29 and she has just lost her husband and now has their daughter (my paternal grandmother) to care for by herself. Looking at the picture I see that I have her nose and maybe her eyes and lips too (when I was younger). She died before I was born yet here (and at such a young age) she is faced with a bleak future for there is no widows pension, no family to support her or her 10 year old daughter. Her husband Frederick was an insurance agent when few people could afford to think of a future without a partner. I hope he did so but she still needed security so later married a man who managed a public house (or tavern) for a local brewery. Her daughter Maud married and their first child was my father and as a child he used to visit them then finally lived with his grandmother and his new step-grandfather and they helped to bring him up in the 1920's. I wish I had met her for I would loved to thank her for being part of me.

                                                        I see me in her
                                                 In overcoming sadness
                                                        Never giving up


Note that in her hand there is the traditional mourning card and that her clothes are typical of funeral wear of the period which she would have worn for some time.


Image of Sarah Ann Harvey (nee Hipwell) 1893

Heigh Ho!

A frog he would a wooing go
Heigh Ho! says Rowley
A frog he would a wooing go
Whether his mother would let him or no
With a rowley, powley, gammon and spinach
Heigh Ho! says Anthony Rowley

Rowley Powley was a favorite cheap pudding of suet pastry covered with jam known by us a a Jam Roly Poly that filled us up.

     My mind it wanders
     Back to my distant childhood
     Constantly hungry

     Had words enough though
     Childhood rhymes to fill us up
     Despite rationing

     Sunday meal the best
     Dad carving the small roast joint
     And Suet pudding

Georgie Porgie pudding and pie
Kissed the girls and made them cry
When the boys came out to play
Georgie Porgie ran away

Note Georgie Porgie was George Villiers who was lover of Anne of Austria, Queen of France wife to Louis X111. He also had a close  relationship with James 1 of England that upset the British nobility and Parliament with his political scheming.

Picture found at www.bbc.co.uk/foodrecipes
Quote 1 found at www.mamalisa.com
Quote 2 found at www.rhymes.org.uk

Raising the flag

                                                   
I migrated to Australia way back in 1966 from England and my family settled well in our chosen country.

When my father retired they thought they would join us to keep close ties with their grandchildren and in those days of high employment they found a job being guides in an historic house of the pioneer Captain Charles Sturt who explored the one great river system in Australia the Murray-Darling basin.

They lived on site and this allowed them to explore possible places to buy a place of their own without any pressure as they now had their accommodation provided.

They both enjoyed the work and meeting people however there was one job my father had to perform there which caused him much heartache.

Each morning when the pioneer's house and museum was opened for public viewing his job was to raise the Australian flag on the flagpole in the car park.

He never did quite get used to raising this standard of the country in which he had not been born so soon after arriving as it seemed he was denying his birthright.

Images found at www.charlessturtmuseum.com.au

Yes, this is a true story.

The bread bin

Many, many years ago two young boys had been left alone during the school holidays with both parents at work so they spent the day playing outside in the yard until the rain came down so they rushed back inside and so did the cat who didn't like the rain at all.

They played for an hour or so with their toys before hunger took hold of them and they searched the house for something to eat but they could find nothing.

Brian finally remembered the bread bin and lifting the lid they found only two crusts left so they both grabbed one while the cat looked on.

"We can't leave it empty" Robin said, so Brian grabbed the cat and put him inside then put the lid back on while they went back to playing with their own toys waiting for their mother to come home.

She was not pleased to find the house in disarray, the cat howling in the bread bin, her shopping still to put away and a meal to prepare before their father came home, so the boys were sent to their bedrooms hungry...except for one who still had his crust of bread stuffed up his jumper.

That boy was me in war torn England in 1943.

I love this city

I love this city
No, not the shopping mall
Or the famous landmarks
With their fine architecture
Avoid the tourist bus
Learning the spurious traditions of a bygone past

No, come walk with me
Not in the bright sunshine
You'll wander down this dark alley
To find a separate world I know
A place that I love
Far from green lawns, flowers and statues

Keep your eyes open
Stare at no-one
Particularly that woman there
See those doors way up high
It's an old warehouse
You can see a hoist still there above the opening

Stand here for a while
Do you here that rumble?
That's a train under our feet
It would be hard to sleep
In these old buildings
With that tremulous feeling all through the night

We can cross this bridge
Over a placid river
Here a man was thrown in and drowned
For just being different
Before the the city was built 
It was the native peoples campsite long ago

Each city is like this
Remembering like me
As it holds on to its chequered past
Now as we turn this corner
Here are the shops again
And the city that everyone thinks they know

Image found at www.sensationaladelaide.com

Yet another day

Ann sighed so sadly

For she was pregnant again

This one was her fourth

Yet one child alive

The angels may have brought them

But they did not stay

Jim, Tom and her here

The others were in heaven

Not even a grave

She wanted a girl

But often wondered for why

When life was all grief

This time it might stay

For baby was due in May

That could be her name

But God would provide

And would take away as well

She smoothed her belly

Let me keep this one

She prayed, and a daughter too

Jim, stirred by her side

The cock crowed outside

Silently she left the bed

Yet another day

Infant mortality two hundred years ago meant that 25% or more babies died before they were one year old; many more in undeveloped countries. Birthdays were not at all important, just surviving was a gift.

Image found at www.all-art.org

South Australia

                                                        Official State emblem

A potted and unreliable history of South Australia for which the author does not apologise

Let me tell of those days of old                             

Way back in eighteen thirty six                            

When others minds were fixed on gold  

Free settlers came here hand in hand            

Made their homes in a southern land     

They crossed three oceans mighty deep

To live in a land of plenty                          

Yet many had much cause to weep        

But never reached the promised shore              

Their graves six fathoms deep or more                  

Men searched for land to plough and till                   

Local natives were not so pleased                      

Despite expressions of goodwill                          

Their hunting grounds and water holes             

No longer theirs to have and hold                                   

Lucky miners soon copper found                        

To help the struggling colony                               

To the land more migrants bound                        

German immigrants came in lines                         

Set about the task by making wines                   

Famous men are not told of here                         

For a lands heart is its people                              

Sheep and crops just everywhere                                   

Equal, freedom for every belief

Keep this in mind so you don't beef 

Image found at www.steamcommunity.com 

Recollections of an warped mind (No 5)

What did you do in the war Daddy?

This was once an appeal to the not so patriotic to do their duty when the country was in peril. The child’s simple question would be answered by the parent feeling guilty or responsible and would thus be persuaded to do their bit for King and Country.

I thought it might be amusing to ask the question of myself or at least very similar ones, to determine what I was doing at momentous times, and how I can now account for my actions or lack of action at the time. Clearly it may be necessary for me to be economical with the truth, and bend facts and dates and events to suit my own personal history. That is the history that I remember.

Was I there? Well if not I was pretty damned close!

I play my part in the Spanish Civil War

Having been born on the 4th May 1936, the Spanish Civil was raging at this time. Looking back, had I had my current political inclinations as I emerged from the womb, no doubt I too would have been marching off, in my nappies to join the International Brigade, in order to defend the fledgling democracy that was too far left politically for it’s own good, in a country which unhappily nursed the Inquisition a few centuries previously to force the populace to conform to the unreasonable demands of the Catholic Church of the time. Well I can say that now but in truth I have always tried to avoid conflict particularly when a stranger you don’t know wants to put you in uniform and carry a rifle while he sits at home drinking his scotch while contemplating your next move. You move all right because you are a puppet on a string, with a stupid smile on your face because it has been painted there by propaganda.

History shows us time and time again that good does not prevail, so General Franco won in Spain, hundreds of foreign volunteers were blacklisted and his dictatorship lasted over thirty years. History also shows us that good does get a chance every now and again but good by its nature is weak, because it is reasonable, benevolent, considerate and anxious to please everyone. Bad, or the forces of evil, on the other hand is the opposite and by its unreasonableness, inhumanity, blindness and desire to please only those in control will be in power more often that not.

So what did I do at the time?

I cried. But my parents thought that I only had a dirty nappy.