Thursday, November 10

A Poem for Thursday.

Once again we met at The Gateway Centre opposite the beautiful Golden Gates of Warrington's Town Hall.
The Bold Street Writers.
And the prompt...very apt for the moment... came from Pat who had introduced me to this wonderful group a few years before.

"The Unexpected"

Well there is so much unexpected at this moment in history...though maybe there may have been more before the days of media coverage of each and every tiny change of mood and tone but we will never know and that could have been a blessed bonus!
This is my offering.


Twice I looked  to find it true.
Not daring to believe my eyes.
The screen  flickered, night was old.
From my companion came sighs,
Disbelief. Fear tugged. Anxiously 
We watched. Numbers rose and fell.
The outcome boards were black
The names above were bold.
The list grew longer, stronger
Were the thoughts we shared.
Mouths tightened, eyes narrowed,
Or eyes wide, mouths agape.
You think you've seen it all
By the time your pension's drawn.

We made another coffee, sleep
Would have to wait 'til  results
Crashed the top line, powered
Through, above, over, beyond.
Whose dreams would crash? And
Whose would soar?
The band played on while the
Dancers danced. What should we do
At a time like this? Should we 
Laugh or weep? Some will rejoice.
Losers lose and winners win.
As it is in life, so in death.
And midnight makes you morbid.
So we crack open the brandy.

We plump up feather cushions
For the necessary comfort in
The long haul.In the small hours
As we wait for light to filter
Through net curtains, and brocade. Then 
When spirits are at lowest and
Souls dried of emotion comes
The long-awaited verdict after
Lonely days, and years
Have passed in the waiting full
Of hope, despair and longing?
A faithful partner at his side.
A shining spotlight  on him. he
Holds his head up high and ...Waits . 

But the Master of Ceremonies in
Red velvet jacket speaks. 
And we hold our breath in
Expectation. At last a result.
The mirrored ball is lifted high and
And Anton  claims his prize.

Now those of the distant shore.... Amerikay!... may not know how long and hard Anton du Beck has fought for the "Glitter Ball...the prize of Strictly come Dancing"...but at a time like this here and across the pond...we need some light relief in our lives.
Vive Le Anton!

Tuesday, November 8

A ,Bitter Week.

We spent four wonderful days on the east coast last week....Suffolk and Norfolk.
We were there to deliver stock to some galleries in Southwold and Snape Maltings. That's the ceramic stock made by the potter here at The Potters House Penketh.
But also to attend some of the organised workshops and readings at The Aldeburgh Poetry Festival.
A real feast of poetic words and thoughts.
Then to cap a great weekend we drove north to Norwich and UEA, to take the eldest grandgirl out for a meal....all students need treats from grandparents!
So late evening after saying our goodbyes we set off for the journey north.
My head was full of the new poetry and poets we had heard....and the news we listened to as we drove was full of the thoughts of the soon to be decided presidential race for The White House.
The euphoria of the four days slipped away little by little as reality arrived as if brought down from the cold north by the chill winds that blew.
The vacuum of this moment in history....will soon be filled with one or 'tother...and we ourselves will soon be either in or out apparently of whatever we have been part of!!

After Auden

And so the leaves fall
And in the chill wind fall fast.
For on the long ride back north
Winter arrived in bitterness.