It starts in the playground,
at least it used to:
string and a horse-chestnut
awarded rank on a basis
of hand-eye coordination
and complicit mothers
permitting use of an oven.
And the trousers got longer
so the boasting changed.
For the longest time
it was ‘How far - you know-
how far did you go?’
In later immaturity
we returned to
numbered rankings
as if we were, ourselves,
love conkers all.
Comments
Doeslittle | March 18, 2008 - 21:00
This is brilliant, really liked it.
camilla | March 18, 2008 - 22:10
I really like the innocence of the conker comp juxtaposed with the next stage comp.Sort of ooh ouch
level of gaucherie.One feels for them and for the girls they are using in the game.
CinCCO | March 18, 2008 - 23:20
Dear Ewan,
I am not sure if Camilla got the same meaning out of this as I did.
Being a man and having gone through puberty into adolescence and beyond, I get the meaning which you have so succinctly put into words.
I think your writings are brilliant. (Strong praise from me.)
Regards.
Brian Kelly.
Ewan | March 19, 2008 - 07:16
I often think we struggle too hard to assign one specific meaning to poems, although I'm no fan of poems where there's nothing at all to hold on to, or where I feel my understanding of them is like gripping a fish tail. Usually, this is because I'm being thick, I suppose.
From your comments CinCCO and Camilla, I didn't think your perceptions of this poem differed so greatly.
Thanks for your very kind words (again), Doeslittle, Camilla and CinCCO.
anipani | March 19, 2008 - 09:00
this amuses, entertains, and strikes at quite a meaningful truth. excellent.