Is Nothing For Keeps?


By Gothicman
- 621 reads
the lottery of childhood destinies
Shuffling, patiently waiting,
the Young sisters, Doris and Yvonne,
looking silly in their pinned-up napkin hats,
dragging old, worn high-heeled shoes
hopping and clopping behind them, and
their wayward brother, Johnny Young,
who once dropped a brick on my head,
taking it all far too seriously;
standing stiffly to attention
throughout the ceremony.
And Valerie Bush from the posh house
next to the nursing home,
so unsporting looking demurely adulterous
on Jane Upton’s own special day
in white-edged maroon blazer,
red T-strap sandals,
and blue be-ribboned straw hat.
All hold an arch of birch twigs
behind me and best man, Michael Portway
who sports an old tin warden’s helmet,
"Your brother home from the front!”
Jane, beautiful bride, shrouded in lace
curtain arrives in solemn procession
on the arm of tall Tony Bush,
awkwardly patriarchal, self conscious
ducking shyly through the cruel,
unyielding branches.
And the ceremony, full of enthusiastic
muttering of “Will yous?” “do yous?”
repeated promises and offered suggestions,
followed by several opportunist “I wills”, and
the bride kissed passionately amid giggles and
hidden red faces, and now....
I see Doris. She never married,
lives alone with her cats.
Yvonne, has severe arthritis,
gets around on elbow-crutches.
Johnny operates a high crane.
Michael killed at sixteen,
riding pillion on a motor bike.
Valerie personally assists an EU Minister,
while brother Tony is a Wing Commander, RAF.
Jane and I did marry after university,
both of us twenty-two,
three children came along, but,
we divorced after twenty years.
At a work's Christmas party,
to my regret,
I discovered lying maturing inside,
the now primitive, erotic effect
a seductive scene-stealer,
once had on me.
(with thanks to Susan Holt)
Goth:2020
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Comments
Very good
I like the way you capture all the uncertainties around individual destinies with a few brief snapshots.
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The title of this poem drew
The title of this poem drew me in straight away. Those people that we shared moments of our life with, suddenly gone, either moved on to pastures new or now deceased.
You have a way of describing people in such a poetic way and it shines through.
Jenny.
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This marvellous, and
This marvellous, and bittersweet, poem is our Facebook and Twitter pick of the day. Please share and retweet.
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I enjoyed this very much,
I enjoyed this very much, some great turns of phrases, like 'demurely adulterous' which made me smile. Excellent poem. Rachel
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A gallery of friends and
A gallery of friends and acquaintances from the past skilfully portrayed. It is like browsing a photo album, spotting individuals and remembering their idiosyncrasies – Valerie Bush 'so unsporting looking demurely adulterous' -
A very enjoyable poem worthy of the Pick, Trevor.
Best, Luigi
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I love when I can read a
I love when I can read a piece and say, I know these people. You've captured it all so well. Much enjoyed, Gothicman.
Rich
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