~~
A pastiche of childish memories
fuzzy coloured in my mind
play hide and seek
with other thoughts
prodding them from behind.
Some just remembered,
thought forgotten almost dead;
others playfully popping up
inside my tired head.
The tuneless voice
of my brother
humming an old time song,
me trying my very best
to tra-la-la along;
Sandy Powell, comedian calling
“Can you hear me Mother”
radio laughter,
flickering firelight,
elbows nudging each other
upon the nursery fireguard
on blacked out winter nights;
that usually led to tanned backsides
and defiant pillow fights.
Suddenly it’s Springtime
Buttercup, Celandine, Lady's Smock;
brown leather sandles
with my Sunday Summer frock.
Teatime bread and dripping,
quiet time spent with our mum
listening to a forecast
for the shipping;
no wiser when it’s done!
Visits from the uncles;
Joe in his Glengarry
marmalade kitten for me in his kit bag,
indifferent uncle Harry.
He’s eager for a game of cards
nothing else upon his mind,
unless you count the glass of stout
and a chair for his fat behind!
Grandma trots down the street
cold bread pudding on a plate,
makes our Sunday tea complete
though just a little late
'cos soon led by his twitching nose
Uncle Tom (of course) turns up,
scoffs most of Grandma’s pud
and commandeers the teapot!
Gambles with uncle Harry
on the turn of a card,
both end up in a fight
yelling insults in the yard.
Grandma shakes her fists at them
"your behavior I can't abide"
clipping them around the ear
shouts "get you both inside!”
A wry smile lifts the frown
from my inward thoughtful face;
life hasn’t changed a great deal
just a different time, another place.
A similar set of problems
beset the family,
only this time it’s not Grandma
who sorts things out…
it’s poor old me!
Comments
Macjoyce | January 2, 2009 - 20:43
I think this is a very rich and charming picture of a bygone age, a bygone England. I can feel the entire scene, in jumping black and white... It has a very strong rhythm which is at its best in the first two verses. After that though, I think it loses pace in certain places where the metre and rhyming lets you down.
Personally, Val, my own opinion is that you should say 'nudging each other' instead of 'nudging one another'.
I think the second half of the third verse is too clumsy and wordy. If you said the same thing more briefly and concisely, it'd be better, I reckon. Also, the phrase "quality time" is a rather cheesey Americanism which people have only been using since the 90s or thereabouts. I don't think it fits in, in a poem about... let me guess... the 50s?
What's Marmalade Kitten? I hope it's nothing like Kitten Marmalade.
How about "He's eager for a game of cards"?
"our tongue tastes wake up budding" doesn't really work with me. I can see you're going for a play on 'taste buds', but the sentence doesn't make much sense.
Also, teapot doesn't rhyme with up. Cup does, though.
And oversized doesn't rhyme with inside. And the closeness of 'inside' to 'aside' disturbs me somewhat. If you're keeping 'inside', then how about 'around the ear'? My Mum would have said 'around the ear'. 'Aside the ear' sounds a bit odd. Maybe it's a dialect thing, I don't know.
And just a last suggestion - how about something like "Life hasn't changed a great deal, just a different time and place"?
I hope that's helped you in some way. I think it's a good poem with a lot of potential.
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lenchenelf | January 2, 2009 - 20:47
Blast, now I fancy good old fashioned bread n' dripping with crunchy bits, sweet tale, thanks L
Bradene | January 3, 2009 - 00:23
Thanks L glad it got your taste buds tingling. Pork dripping. Mmm lovely(; Val x
Bradene | January 3, 2009 - 00:24
Thanks Mac. I found your suggestions useful and have used most of them, but have decided to keep teapot. personally I'm still not happy with the last stanza and may work on that some more. It was the late 1940,s by the way, and yes it was a dialect thing, though my Gran originated from Brentwood in Essex she had a very quaint way of talking abit like a Dickensian character really. By the time this all took place she had lived in Leicestershire for almost a lifetime. She was born in 1872 and lived until 1968. She was a lovely lady. Oh yes and a marmalade Kitten was so called because it was ginger with darker gingery stripes like the colour of marmalade. Thanks again and a happy 2009 to you Val x
MistakenMagic | January 4, 2009 - 12:48
A wonderful insight into your past Val. I loved the first stanza and the piece had a beautiful, easy rhythm. Well done on the cherry!
Magic xxx