Rhymes from the heart

RHYMES FROM THE HEART 

When I started this blog I didn’t know how it would be received.  I guess I should have realised that it would spark memories in my “Cast of Characters” crew, because it seems it did!

Not the least of which is a series of poems written by LS.  I have to share these with you (it’s O.K. I’ve asked and received permission) because in many instances they dove-tail with the stories I’ve told, or maybe plan to tell.  They do not have titles because LS has given none.

Remember the post called “Easter, Christmas and in Between”?  Well, the following poetry will provide insight from another perspective.

For Easter I'd three pennies
So I bought myself a chick
So yellow and so chirpy
I ran him home real quick

Who'll keep it warm and feed it
Was all my Mum would say
I'll ask the lady with the hens
Who lives across the way

I used to sit and watch him grow
I think the roost he ruled
But I never really noticed
When mother watched she drooled

Who could believe at Christmas
When joy should fill your heart
That one could slay and pluck and cook
While you are torn apart

When reading these poems you may notice that they don’t always jibe exactly with what I’ve written.    To me that’s perfect!  Memory is a very subjective thing, part real, part imagined, part invented and altogether wonderful!  You’ll no doubt figure out quickly that the following merges nicely with the posting:  “Beer, Bombs and a dog called BoyBoy”.

My sister wanted a puppy

But dad brought her a huge dog

It followed him home from work today

All eyes on him were agog

My mother screams "We can’t keep him

He'll probably chew us to shreds

It'll cost us money to feed him

And I know he’ll sleep on your beds"

He lets us ride upon his back

And does all kinds of feats

But mothers still complaining

About how much he eats

The rent man comes collecting

For money he never will get

We send the dog to scare him off

Mother says "He's a luverly pet"

I’m including one more little one that is so personal to LS, that I’m sure I could never write a story that would highlight the emotion it contains.  

It is particularly poignant at this time because she is referring of course to LLB.

One brother’s only five years old

His hair I love to touch

It's long and blond and curly

Yes I like it very much

Today when I came home from school

I cried because I care

Mother said "He's a big boy now"

She'd cut off all his hair

Mum with LLB at a much younger age than in poem, but showing the start of  his gorgeous blond curls.

I have more of these poems that I’ve scanned and OCR’d – I’m saving them for later, so stay tuned!