Sitting round my father’s table, he insisted
on saying grace. Mum worked in the laundry –
he was an inspector on the buses, so mercifully,
family meals were rare.
“Manners maketh man,” he maintained;
as kids, we were forbidden to speak
till we’d cleared our plates –
finished what the good Lord sent to us.
He never once gave thanks to Mum –
fingers red raw. Peeling spuds
didn’t do washday hands any favours.
She was nice – bought us Tizer sometimes;
pink champagne, me and my sister called it.
It went to our heads and the fizz, to our noses.
Trouble was, sometimes we’d get the giggles.
We couldn’t help ourselves, even though
we knew where it would end. We’d watch him
dab the corners of his mouth with a napkin,
smooth back his Brylcreemed hair
and leave the room...
After what seemed an eternity,
we’d watch the door-knob turn –
catch our breath as we’d picture him
on the threshold; leather strap in hand.
He was clever though – knew a thing
or two about kids, because it did the trick.
We weren’t smiling...Not anymore.
‘For what we are about to receive
may the Lord make us truly grateful’
gained a whole new dimension.
Years later – sitting with my brood
round the table, laughter is mandatory
and grace is a dirty word.
Comments
Jupiter | July 20, 2009 - 22:45
Good for you Silver - progress is sometimes golden ;-).
I sometimes feel when I read your work that we've just been having a chat and I forget that I have been reading a poem and how smooth it is - so let me just say - it's a really smooth, interesting and entertaining poem ha! ha! Nice work imho :-)
threeleafshamrock | July 20, 2009 - 23:15
Well written Tina; a sad tale in many ways but with a happy ending. The 'Tizer' made me think; haven't seen that for years, do they still make it I wonder? It was a favourite in a lot of houses, including ours ;)
Chris XX
whiskey | July 21, 2009 - 00:17
A poem I can empathise with in many ways, sadly. Very well done.
insertponceyfre... | July 21, 2009 - 03:48
am echoing what chris said - it was really well written. Tizer does exist and there is even some evil cocktail you can make with it
make us grateful for this plateful : )
sarah wilson | July 21, 2009 - 07:05
Like whiskey I can empathise - beautifully written Tina. I think it should be 'our' not 'out' in verse 2. And I've had a Tizer cocktail - not recommended!:)
sarah x
Silver Spun Sand | July 21, 2009 - 07:43
Glad it worked for you, Jupiter and thanks for telling me;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | July 21, 2009 - 07:45
Tizer - yep those sure were the days:-)
My thanks to you for reading and commenting so empathetically, Chris.
Tina xx
Silver Spun Sand | July 21, 2009 - 07:46
In the light of your words, I more than appreciate your reading and commenting so thoughtfully.
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | July 21, 2009 - 07:48
A Tizer-based cocktail...Must check that one out sometime;-)
Thanks so much for reading.
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | July 21, 2009 - 07:50
Sarah - many thanks for spotting my 'deliberate mistake;-)
...And maybe I won't check out that Tizer cocktail after all;-)
Your words, appreciated.
Tina x
Bradene | July 21, 2009 - 09:16
I read this poem the other night I'm sure I did! it was when I couldn't sleep and was up at about 3-ish I thought how brilliant it was but decided to commment on it the next day, When I looked for it later it had disappeared. Imagine my surprise to find it this morning!! did I dream it or what? Well it's great Tina another triumph to add to your many. Well done indeed. Val xx
Silver Spun Sand | July 21, 2009 - 09:24
Dear Val...No, you did not dream it;-) Yes, I did post it briefly, then wasn't happy with it, so 'tweaked' it somewhat.
Glad it made an impact on you Val. Unfortunately, I feel, quite a few will be able to relate to this.
Hope your book is going well. It certainly deserves to.
Tina xxx
Cavalcaderl | July 21, 2009 - 19:03
Silver-spun-sand yes that's a good one,plenty can
of our time identify with you.
etc; Manners maketh man!and much worse.
no talking at the food table, when on leave from
the Navy drink ruined all and strap boys.No boyfriends up to age 19. in by 1OP.M or door
locked.Eat fat and all what ever food we could
afford if fat give dog under table before came
in from pub.Butter was marge?eggs powdered,those
were the days! children seen but silent like pictures on wall good clout answered back.Used
to pop neighbours for cup sugar or eggs in those days. outside toilet dark and stone cold tin bath
aye,No electricty till put in relation, then switch
put on wrong so would't work top stairs or visa versa if on dark.spooky. yours well explained.and war! but doors and windows left open in those times.
julie x (:- bit long could go on?
Sikander | July 21, 2009 - 20:21
A beautiful and tragic picture - exquisitly told. Pretty much perfect actually. Well done.
Silver Spun Sand | July 21, 2009 - 21:26
Julie - I would love to hear more of your fascinating reminiscences. I too share many of them. 'Children should be seen and not heard' - a phrase that is indelibly ingrained on my mind.
Oh...and you mention the outside loo!! Ours was in a lean-to which also was home to the gigantic mangle - complete with its defunct Union Jack; now utilised as its cover to keep it from rusting.
I too could to go on...and on.
As far as electricity is concerned, my Uncle Frank put ours on and it was great, except there was nothing like that promising glow from the filament in a gas lamp thereafter.
Or then again, maybe there was.
I thank you for your time and trouble in reading my poem and commenting on it so thoughtfully.
Tina x
Silver Spun Sand | July 21, 2009 - 21:33
Your words mean much, Sikander and I thank you for them.
By the way, I too loved your 'Sea Song'. An experiment that, from my point of view, was totally successful.
Tina
Mark Heathcote | July 21, 2009 - 23:21
Mark Heathcote
A smooth read which also brings back many memories.
My father once asked me for the time at the dining table and when I told him I couldn’t tell the time.
He leapt out of his chair like a leopard and began teaching me.
And within the space 5 minutes he taught me what no-other teacher could.
Fear of him opened my eyes and my mind was a trapdoor opened ajar.
Silver Spun Sand | July 22, 2009 - 11:24
Mark, I thank you so much for reading and for sharing your memories, which must not have been easy.
Your few words say much.
Tina
russiandoll | July 22, 2009 - 20:25
This is a nice piece of work, necessarily bittersweet and very atmospheric.
Well done.
sunshine | July 22, 2009 - 21:03
Excellent account - the dual reference to 'for what we are about to recieve' works beautifully. Margot
sunshine | July 22, 2009 - 21:15
.
Nathan Bednarek | July 22, 2009 - 21:18
‘For what we are about to receive
may the Lord make us truly grateful’
gained a whole new dimension.
This is so powerful. The stanza I quoted gave the poem a 'whole new dimension'. ;-)
A well deserved cherry.
Nathan xox
Cavalcaderl | July 22, 2009 - 21:35
new Silver-spun-sand well done! on the cherry
things hard to put sometimes. Yes love to maybe
to-morrow.One onm the mangle?
bless you x julie (;- :-)
Silver Spun Sand | July 23, 2009 - 11:27
My sincere thanks to you for reading. 'Bittersweet' is an extremely apt description and I am glad that this came across.
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | July 23, 2009 - 11:29
Margot - glad that you picked up on that. My thanks to you for reading and commenting so positively.
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | July 23, 2009 - 11:30
Hi there Nathan. Glad you're back;-)
Thanks so much... and yes, you are right - that certainly is the stanza that 'makes' this poem.
Tina xx
Silver Spun Sand | July 23, 2009 - 11:32
Julie - many thanks;-)
I think your 'mangle' idea could be a great one. You must get busy!
Tina x
Cavalcaderl | July 24, 2009 - 07:53
New silver-spun-sand hello hello
of to wedding he is actually taking
me to one out,
Life is so short sometimess. So no
mangle story yet! Well Argus managed
put my Cat Poem in to-day on here
called "Green Eyes"COMMENTS PLEASE!
We must all see Henry Allingham in paper
aged 113 from all wars been in and has
died last week,even attended schools
and children giving talks
met gets an posthumous
award. and great inspiration to all
from St Dunstans Blind home Brighton
was in Ovingdean.I sent card one year.
who truly served his country[
Inspiration for all fighting
in war at moment.may he R.I.P.
julie x (;- -;)
MistakenMagic | July 26, 2009 - 20:46
A very harrowing, haunting poem Tina. I hope this isn't autobiographical! The last stanza is perfect and full of pathos, well done on the cherry!
Magic xxx
Silver Spun Sand | July 27, 2009 - 11:05
Hi there, Rebecca.
As to the autobiographical content of this, all I shall say is that, fortunately, times change.
Thanks for reading and for the congrats. Much appreciated;-)
Tina xxxx
Beeme | July 29, 2009 - 07:59
A very moving and powerful piece. Sad to see it's under autobiographical, but last verse shows you have come out shining! :) A well deserved cherry x
Best Wishes Beeme xx
Silver Spun Sand | July 29, 2009 - 08:04
I thank you so much for reading and for your words, Beeme. Much appreciated:-)
Tina xx