Sometimes memories surface and who knows why? Events that I have given no thought to for decades pop up and sometimes I think that might make a poem. This is the story of a crime I committed over forty years ago.
CHAMELEON
my camouflage that year was
a marjons football club jumper
I stole from the Student Union shop
the time I volunteered to accompany
Heather who was intermitting to
join Operation Raleigh for six moths
the Deputy President was anxious that
everyone should know exactly where
she had just come from
I simply picked up my prize
and failed to add it to the list
of clothing she had chosen
in the outside world
I wore it sparingly and only
when I needed fabric credibility
not that anyone ever commented
or bothered to admit they had
taken in the embroidery on my left breast
but it gave me comfort
as I navigated my new reality
The lines wrote themselves and the breaks seemed to fit. I've polished it up a little but essentially this is how the poem arrived. Operation Raleigh was a opportunity for young people to participate in a scientific adventure. I had the jumper for a number of years, it was quite well made I seem to remember. Marjons still has a football club and I still have never played football. Though I am happy to pay for my jumper should anyone wish me to.
The photographs this post are all from Wednesday. The sea at Meadfoot was choppy. Here's Spirogyra with Captain's Log.
Hi Paul ... I was sitting next to you at the Lighthouse in Deal 25th Oct. Was great to hear you read. I esp liked that you said one can find poetry everywhere. Completely agree. You had to leave before I read , but you did bring my bag back ! :-) - Here is one of mine, from one of my everywheres ...
ReplyDeleteBarcelona
She takes me by the hand
and into the second chamber
where it is somehow possible
to purchase the invisible perfume
of flowers and a hundred other scents,
each held fugitive under glass.
I lift one -
the sound of a street guitar
below a single male song;
another, the gingered syrup
around the passion fruit ice;
a third, the sprawl of a sleeping child
laid in a startle
across the father's chest.
Ron, thanks for taking the time to visit the blog and, especially, leave a poem. Sorry I wasn't able to stay to hear you read.
ReplyDeleteI like the poem. The idea that scents trigger memories works well with the dream like setting. I know Barcelona well and you offer a thoughtful picture of the city.
I'd like to read more of your work if that's possible. I'll ask Ana to give you my email.
Thanks again.
Thanks for the encouraging comment Paul. I'd like to share some more. I recently (self-)published a first collection. Been writing since about 14. I'll look forward to getting yr email via Ana. Ron
DeleteI look forward to reading your book Ron. Have a good weekend.
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