THE DEMOB TAILOR

This post's poem was sparked by someone asking if I had ever been to Venice, sadly I have not.  I remembered my father saying he had visited in 1945, after the War in Europe ended. He had been with the Eighth Army since El Alamein  and he was given leave that summer. I didn't mention this in the conversation but it set me thinking and a couple of days later I wrote this.

FAMILY HISTORY

finally the shooting stops

Charlie gets the train to Venice

where the sandbagged statues

tax his imagination

he’s seen so much these past six years

after all that khaki and the hard won miles

he goes to La Scala

as opera never fails

to bring out the beauty

they’ll ship him home soon

and he’ll slip some silver

to the demob tailor

who’ll cut his suit

with a little more care

Charlie will wear it

like they all did

down the dance

on a Saturday night

where he’ll meet my mother

and then my story begins

I think this is definitely a work in progress. I have a difficulty with the rhythm, and it doesn't feel complete. I think this is one to take to the next meeting of the Secret Poets and see what they make of it.

Mdou Moctar have a new album out. Here's the title track.

Until next time.