Over by the corridor
Ms. Smith sleeps;
mouth agape. She snores –
blanket soaked with saliva;
her French-pleat in disarray.
Her nail polish, chipped –
in need of repair...
but it’s the beautician’s
day off today; a joke
if ever I heard one.
Then there’s old Tom,
next to the window.
He’s a regular. Crystal meths
and methadone his latest poison.
You’re bound to know Tom.
Round any street corner
he’ll be – him
and his three-legged dog.
Nepalese he is – fought
in the Falkland’s War,
for all the respect it’s worth.
His real name’s Tormka –
means, ‘Magic Stone’.
Richmond, Surrey
Ms. Smith was born.
Brown – her maiden name;
a teacher by profession.
Monday afternoon
she last opened her bowels;
Blood Group, ‘A’ positive –
her husband died last spring...
Things normally discussed
behind closed doors.
A flimsy curtain screen
all that’s between them
and their dignity...
when I break it to Tom
his liver’s shot.
When he asks
who’ll care for his dog.
When I tell Ms. Smith,
as likely as not,
she won’t finish the book
she’s been writing.
It’s at times like these I wonder
what the hell it’s all for.
Comments
whiskey | June 25, 2009 - 14:05
Very, very good.
I could never do that job in a million years and take my hat off to all who do.
sarah wilson | June 25, 2009 - 14:30
Another poignant and perfectly constructed poem Tina, and another well deserved cherry. I love the restraint with which you handle a difficult subject.
Sarah x
Nathan Bednarek | June 25, 2009 - 15:08
Delicious. The characters themselves create a whole new dimension in this poem. I really enjoyed this. Well done.
Nathan xox
threeleafshamrock | June 25, 2009 - 18:40
Very very enjoyable Tina. Maybe I shouldn't find any humour in this piece but I do; product of twisted mind I suppose. Maybe it's a sense of irony more than humour, yes I think that describes it better. I worked in a home for a while (it's where I met my wife) and maybe that fact gives me a different perspective; makes me seek out the other traits, other than just the sadness. Anyway, the bottom line - after all that blathering - is that I could relate to this more than I possibly should have. Reading back over this comment I realize that it may appear as if I'm drunk but I've decided to leave it up anyway for fear someone might understand what I'm getting at. Well deserved cherry Tina, thanks ;)
Chris XX
Cavalcaderl | June 25, 2009 - 19:28
new Silverspun-sand very very true to life and beautifully explained. when I had op once surgeon whisks back curtain, 2 practising shaving he says"cover the lady up, I hope so.No one knows what goes on. I don't like to watch or know.well earnt cherry julie x
Silver Spun Sand | June 26, 2009 - 07:42
I know what you mean, whiskey.
Both my daughters were nurses and one of them was married to a doctor and I have the deepest respect and admiration for all those like them.
My sincere thanks to you for reading.
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | June 26, 2009 - 07:42
Sarah - your words very much appreciated. Thank you.
Tina x
Silver Spun Sand | June 26, 2009 - 07:43
Nathan - your words were 'delicious' too. Thank you;-)
Tina xox
Silver Spun Sand | June 26, 2009 - 07:45
Chris...you got me wondering now;-) It all sounds very, shall we say...interesting?!!
My thanks to you for reading and I am glad the poem meant something to you;-)
Tina xx
Silver Spun Sand | June 26, 2009 - 07:46
Hi there Julie! I think many people will be able to identify with this, unfortunately.
I much appreciate your words. Thank you;-)
Tina
MistakenMagic | June 26, 2009 - 16:44
Sorry it's taken me so long to comment Tina! I remember you posting this before - though I think it was in a different structure with longer lines? Anyway I'm so glad it's got the appreciation it deserves this time round, well done ;)
Magic xxx
Silver Spun Sand | June 27, 2009 - 22:35
And I am so sorry it took me so long to thank you,, Magic.
Not only for reading, but for remembering my original post.
Yes, you are so right, I changed the structure and tweaked a few lines, plus the ending.
That's the great thing about poetry, I guess...and a few other things, excepting of course, sculpting in bronze, stone etc... Poetry can all be reshaped, remoulded and reborn.
Tina xxxx
DraxB | June 28, 2009 - 09:33
A sad sensitive tale, nicely done
Silver Spun Sand | June 30, 2009 - 13:01
Drax, thank you;-)
Tina
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