Creative Coping


My world, aged 6 years
August 12, 2009, 6:38 pm
Filed under: childhood, eating, memories, nature, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , ,

Twister twister

Lucky dip

Sherbert dust

And Tizer pop

Daisies strewn

Across the lawn

Chains made from

Lime-bright stems

Held in grubby

Young hands

Laid around the

Circle band

Before the lawn

Mower man comes

And hoovers up

The carpet, how

Absurd,

A barricade is

Made. In outrage at

Adult atrocity

It guards the

Survivors chanting

‘Save the daisies’,

Still alive, yellow faces pleading.

Another day and

Daisies gone, balls

Fligh high through

Leaves to greet

Plastic bags stranded

like Repunzel with

Short hair bleached

White in the sun.

Games come like old

Yarns, never learnt

Never forgot, Hop Scotch

Starboard, What time is it

Misterrr..

Too lat to be up

Remembering this-

Ball games like cricket

But not, rounders with

Socks for bases,

Blankets fo birthdays

‘Givim the Bumps’

Smash goes the racket,

Crack goes a window

Clean through the net,

Old enough to read

‘NO BALL GAMES’

Young enough to know better.



Mary
July 14, 2009, 9:27 pm
Filed under: childhood, happiness, home, love, memories, nature, strength | Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Mary moo Mary

You were there

When the blossom

Came, Mary you

Were there when

The winter

Went, Mary you

Are here just like

A Gran.

Standing ironing

Sitting moaning,

Laughing, crying,

Listening to ‘Lipstick

On your collar,’

Telling tales from

The betting shop or

You and Marge’s

Latest trip to Wimpy,

 Brian, Moreen

Leighton,

Patrick the Irish

Queer next door.

Have some more

Cream slice,

Bread pudding,

You’ll buy four for

For me,  ‘Only a paahnd

Fifty’, to take home.

Or pie and mash for sister.

YOu? No, no you

Don’t eat like

You used to,

In the caravan,

Round, happy,

Just the sun and

Slot machines and

Walks along

The sea, girls

On leads, so’s

We dont ‘draaan’.

 

Please remember,

We thank you

And love you like a

Gran.

Grand old Mare



S.C.Alexander, died 14th June 2009, POW, Changi, 1940-1945
June 17, 2009, 9:23 pm
Filed under: bereavement, death, memories, pain | Tags: , , , , , , ,

That skull there on

The pillow,

One two three we

Heave him up,

Belch,

One two three we

Let him down, down,

Death bubbles in his

Guts,

Fiddles the clockwork

In his heart.

A nappy smothers

Paper skin and knees hover, angling,

Buzzards above the

Wan skeleton, barely

Worth the fuss.

His eyes are lidded

And the curtain’s shut

But for the odd crack

Of Pain and Cricket,

Outside.

In they come, ‘The family’,

He mouths and seems to say,

As he lifts bone to

Palm, before the bridge

Breaks and his life flows

Off, prisoner no more,

Away.



A house on a London terrace
June 11, 2009, 7:07 pm
Filed under: childhood, haunting, home, memories | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

The house was built in 1864 or thereabouts

With bricks and mortar

In the usual way,

Set down on the street

‘Tween two just the

Same.

No, I lie. Next

Door was a shop,

Greyed out now, modern

Style, frosted windows, the works.

 

Behind doors to the house of

A family, bent by

Chance into odd-

Shaped rooms, tombs

For the spirits of eras

Passed, mingling now and

Then with the plates on

The rack or a glass in the

Cupboard, no harm meant.

After twenty five years

No surprise at a flying saucepan.

 

The family lived in the house,

Part of it, kin to it,

Whatever its freight.

Besides, after twenty five years, they

Had their own ghosts as guests,

Those former selves in former

Times living on,

Resonating in overlapping lines.

 

The cello practice, the barking

Dog, the sleeping dog,

The trampoline, the one that

Broke, the roller blades,

The skipping rope.

 

The time when budgies tweeted

In the kitchen

And Ma cooked at 6 for me

And 8 for him, again.

 

The time when garden’s shade

Was less and next door neighbour

Had a cat called…called….

 

Times gone but still present

In the ether, round the stairs, up the blocked chimney,

Or the skylight, then,

Down, over mossy steps

And at the back door, again,

With a ratataptap, like a

Ghost..

No, it must be Jack

The new next door neighbour’s

Cat.