The Poetry Of.
Christine Ann.........................................................
Clatworthy.........................................................
Lifebuoy Soap and Sherbet Drops
In and out the dusky bluebells, country lanes and muddy ditches,
signposts point to Hamlin Bottom, Charnock Wood and Dingly Dell,
rundown barns and stone-built churches, stained-glass windows
catch the headlights of our brand-new Morris Minor
stomachs churning in excitement - Vanessa's parties always great
strawberry tarts and chocolate cake, liquorice allsorts, wrapped in doilies.
Vanessa, smiling at the doorway, hair of gold and shiny cheeks,
led me round the bulging coat stand - bypassed Uncle, cracking jokes,
just in time for 'pass-the-parcel'. "Come on Harry - join the circle!"
Purely by coincidence, they sat me next to sweet Vanessa -
Lifebuoy soap and Parma Violets - breath that smelt of sherbet drops,
never was I so enchanted - really was a super party!
"Take your partners for a Polka, dance until it's five-past teatime.
Come on kiddies - let's get moving!" Not my fault they paired us up -
she who'd won my heart completely, pressed against her party frock
where I spent my seventh heaven as she cantered, pigtails swinging,
patent shoes and ankle-socks. Missed the sideboard, dodged the table,
collided with the grand piano, "Steady you two - take it slowly!"
Vanessa said she really liked me - said she knew somewhere to go,
so I met her in the cupboard, underneath the passage stairs
whilst all the rest played 'hunt the slipper', she and I together there,
just the sound of two hearts beating in the dark and musty silence -
love too deep for hugs and kisses, then came footsteps and a shriek
"Anybody seen Vanessa? Everyone . Vanessa's missing!"
love just starting had to end, as she whispered, "Be my friend."
Farewell handshakes for her mother - thank you's for the lovely tea,
back we sped through misty meadows, fairies danced in Dingly Dell,
shooting stars and moonbeam-pixies chased our car down tarmacked lanes
then home again, hot-water steaming, lying in the tub and dreaming,
Vanessa bends to scrub my back and helps me on with my pyjamas,
tucks me in and holds me tightly - safe inside my comfy bed.
The line of beauty
Their bodies lay entwined by the black-leaded stove -
the fire's golden glow, cruelly belying
the imminent parting first grey light of morning
must inevitably bring,
as the kindling crackles, a spark flies, so settles
on the old Turkish rug - unnoticed it lies,
smoulders then dies.
Separation does not wait its hour.
Tomorrow's tears burn behind their eyes,
tomorrow's goodbyes, in silence, said,
will echo round the quayside at dawn
to vie with kisses tossed to the wind.
As if to make the evening last
she takes from the hearth a charcoal twig
draws the line of his shadow
as it falls, black on gold, on the fire-lit wall,
his turned-up nose -
those hands, those arms,
in the weeks and months to come,
in her solitude and dread
would keep her warm.
Sparrows can't sing
Cat caught a bird
laid it at my feet
garnet-green eyes
stared up at me
with such
unashamed pride
and I glared back -
unashamed disgust
and anger
in mine.
Bird fluttered a while
as I cupped it
in my palm
felt it trembling -
just a tiny fledgling
fallen from its nest
could see its heart
beating wildly
in its downy-grey chest -
a sparrow
I supposed.
What to do next?
Laid it by the hedge
on a sycamore leaf -
should have ended its misery
poor defenceless creature
couldn't bring myself to -
killing's not my thing.
So called Cat in for tea -
begrudgingly
as she sat there
expectantly
licking her paws
I opened the can -
'Diced chicken in sauce'
I read
out loud
from the label.
'See -
you're no different,
from me,'
she said
from under
the table
with those eyes
that despised
my hypocrisy
as the baby bird
in the garden outside
stretched its wings
and flew away.
Main Page
This site sponsored by
|
<![CDATA[<xmp>
<body>
]]> | | |