dannyboy

Wandering Past:

There are the baths
I swam in forty years ago;
deserted now -
cracked concrete
where squeals and pretty girls’ feet
once dwelt.

The row of gums
in the park still stand
where, when small,
I caught caterpillars -
large, fat, vivid green and blue
but I never saw them turn
into butterflies,
lacking then as now
the patience.

That fountain
is where sweaty,
fear a clawing cat on my back,
I kissed
Helen Taylor
though she already loved someone else.

This house is where I
lived as a child.
It’s broken now
as if too many memories
have pushed it down.
we left it to others
who never treated it
as we did; once it was our
home, a place of
Christmases and birthdays
and Sunday arvo barbecues.

Mark lived here,
my friend until a girl
came between us
he lied
and I was always
unforgiving of lies
even though I am just as guilty
as the next man’s lust.

This is the paddock
where I lost my watch;
I looked for hours
I was nine,
my birthday just three days past.
The sun set
as I scratched in the earth;
the tears fall again
as I remember my fear -
I understood dad
would brook no excuse.

Here is the school yard,
though the burner’s gone now.
The tar
is still tar, hard and uncompromising
and nuns still walk,
their black cloth flapping
as anger walked beside them.

I find the lane, hidden as always
behind the vine.
It exists till
these forty years later;
lost and filled
with my small boy’s wonder.
Waiting still
these many years,
its weeds and damp grass
embracing me
as I push past and enter -
feel my young self
walking beside me,
we smile
as tears fall down my cheeks.

The blue house I cannot find,
no house stands now
blue
like dreams coating weather boards.
The woman gone
these many years since
but once I sat and shared cool cordial
and a sweet biscuit
until two children scared me
and I never returned..

Here is the church,
always waiting -
it feeds upon all the souls
of the dear departed,
so large against the sky
staring down at me
with my father’s angry eyes.
I hated that church then
and some things always remain unchanged -
only now
I understand more the reasons.

There is the park
where monkey bars once lived.
Me and Gary and Billy
swung through a thousand
sunny and wet
after school afternoons.

The golf course,
the football oval,
the shopping strip,
but not the empty paddock behind.
My mind thinks of a hundred faces
so lost
it surprises me
that I might remember them all.

Time
defeats us all
yet left behind
are photographs
not taken with film
but with emotions.

journyman161

I haven't started yet - going to make a cuppa - do you write short poetry at all?

__________________
*He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary - William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)
*Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? - Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
*Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it - Moses Hadas
*He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know - Abraham Lincoln

journyman161

You clever bastard!

=D> =D> =D> =D> =D> =D> =D>


Are you allowed to post stuff this good on the forums? What do we all do now? Move to doggerel?

__________________
*He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary - William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)
*Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? - Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
*Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it - Moses Hadas
*He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know - Abraham Lincoln

huni

Wow Danny - this took my little old heart and shook it about. Tears and tight throat.

This is so 'true', things like:
though she already loved someone else.

And this is so poetic:
their black cloth flapping
as if anger walked beside them.

Another line I like:
as if too many memories
have pushed it down.

Some tightening would make this a true gem. As it stands now I just love it to bits. huni.

__________________
each time we see the face ...it is our own ideas of him which we recognize. Proust

dannyboy

thanks guys and Huni yes it needs some work, I feel it's a bit awkward at times but I'd been stirring this for a week or two now, thought I'd post it and sit on it for a time -but thank you both for the support.

I wrote this after going to the funeral for uncle Jim - I drive past the old baths, down my old street, past my old house (left some 26 years ago) past the primary school and into the old church.

It was strange ... dislocating.... This is the result.

Desiree

Excellent work. Wow. I know I'm coming back to this again.

Thanks for the treat!

D

Drucifer

Very impressive... you never fail to amaze me.

My only comment would be the use of "as if"... it makes your images a tad blurred. So minor a comment, it seems sacriligious to post it.

__________________
Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomine nuda tenemus. -Eco

dannyboy

Thanks Drucifer - and i have noticed this tendency of mine to write those two little words far too many times 'as if'.