It was warm in our grandma’s scullery –
painted gloss-green; the copper was on
for our weekly Friday bath, and the slip
and the slap of her spoon as she stood
by the stove making jam, kind of soothing.
My sister and me, sat frantically sewing.
‘Our gymslips, torn on the brambles,’ or so
we fibbed to Gran. We were shortening them
by a mile, hoping she’d turn a blind eye.
Love-struck, we were in those days. Venus
in alignment with Mars, or so our stars said.
Hormones all-awry, we took it as a sign.
Summer pudding for tea; a bowl, brim-full
of luscious red fruits. Scraping our fingers
round our dish – daubed juice on our lips –
ran outside. The cute boy next door gave us
that look, when he saw our florid cupid’s bows,
said, “Go play with the traffic. Come back,
when you grow into them.”
Comments
scratch | December 8, 2011 - 20:06
Silver, you have captured a precise cameo of that point in everyone's life. But juxtaposed with the place of sanctuary that you describe lifts this into a plain of innocence and safety that really accentuates a rights of passage episode. I think there is more mileage in this - but it is super as a stand alone poem of great delicacy in its own right.
camilla | December 8, 2011 - 20:22
That boy is horrid but it does seem part of the innocence of that age that boy's smart remark.
Its all like a black and white film.
fatboy74 | December 8, 2011 - 20:40
Some Heaney in this 'slip and slap' and the ending as well, but mostly Tina which is why it's so good. :-)
seashore | December 8, 2011 - 22:27
This one really gets the senses going Tina - you are so good at nostalgia (amongst many other things).
Coral x
Highhat | December 9, 2011 - 05:59
Very nostalgic. I agree with Coral- you are very good at these small moments in children's lives. Nice one Tina
;)Pia xx
Silver Spun Sand | December 9, 2011 - 09:02
Thanks, so very much, scratch;-) You may be right about that 'mileage', but I am so pleased you got so much from this - right to the heart of the matter, so to speak.
Tina;-)
Silver Spun Sand | December 9, 2011 - 09:03
Thanks, camilla...I think you are spot on with your words;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | December 9, 2011 - 09:03
Many thanks, fb. Pleased you enjoyed;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | December 9, 2011 - 09:05
Ah...nostalgia! Where would we be without it?;-)
Thanks, Coral. Have a good weekend;-)
Tina x
Silver Spun Sand | December 9, 2011 - 09:06
Many thanks, Pia. Pleased you liked;-)
Have a peaceful weekend.
Tina xx
skinner_jennifer | December 9, 2011 - 14:24
Hi Tina,
you took me back to my childhood with this beauty
of a poem. I too remember the old tin bath that
used to hang on the wall in the kitchen ready for
our once a week bath. 'Oh what memories!' thankyou
for stirring those memories for me.
I bet your gran was a great cook, making her own
jam.
Have a great weekend.
Jenny.
anipani | December 9, 2011 - 17:01
Enjoyed this.
Silver Spun Sand | December 9, 2011 - 18:17
Yes, she was, Jenny. She was 'in service' in big house in Peckham in East London, and she learned her trade there. Her bread-pudding was to die for;-)
Pleased you enjoyed your trip down Memory Lane, and many thanks for letting me know;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | December 9, 2011 - 18:18
Thank you, anipani. Good of you to say so;-)
Tina
MistakenMagic | December 12, 2011 - 15:33
A beautifully little compact poem, Tina. So many delicious images crammed into this one and those last lines are just perfect!
Magic xxx
Silver Spun Sand | December 12, 2011 - 18:39
Pleased you enjoyed, Magic, and took time out to tell me. Thank you;-)
Tina xxx