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Monday, 17 April 2017

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!

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