Riddled, 1

“Above all ever crossed you!”

Fierce threat fired from dad

At kids bemused

By Galway phrasing.

 

The same rage when

“Blaggards! Curs of young lads!”

Broke his allotment shed door.

 

Seeing his face glow red,

To be a young lad cur

– Above all ever crossed me –

Did not appeal.

Riddled 2

“You wouldn’t get a good one for much less”.

Did he mean my gift’s no good?

Or was the price too high?

(His self-esteem too low).

 

Whatever he intended,

The phrase a lasting ache:

Why would I look for a good one

For less

For my dad?

  

DIFFERENT FIELDS

 

Teen cousin walks me round his western field

Eager for my (hesitant) admiration.

Too bumpy for my football

But heaven for his thirty milkers.

–      Better than yours?

–      No contest.

(No milking by the Thames).

 

–      You’ve grass enough for sheep though?

    –      Clapham Common … It’s there when we want it…

(Parks and commons close by)

 

–      So how many?

–      None, just now.

 

Circling the meadow,

His brow furrowed:

 

–      No cows, no sheep…

At least chickens in your yard – or geese?

(Desperate now) A dog? A cat?

–      My brother has a goldfish.

 

Between his patch and mine

No Boys Land.

 

Years later, my patch.

At the Lavender Hill crossroad.

Dumbfounded by autos all around

And planes crossing above,

He glimpsed my London acres, my manor.

 

My cousin,

Same flock.

Different fields.

                                               

2 December 97   

  

Heart Up-ENDED

Lover of Owen, Hopkins and the Noble Way,

Of Jesus and the Bard, and chastened by Dicken’s Pip,

Hand in hand, only, with my schoolbag,

Blanched by gazing wisdomward,

Drunk on the pure air.

Into this, my private whirlwind,

Fiona D like Keneally’s Curran,

Heart-up-ended me,

My higher Maths D-graded,

My overtures, not to her ear.

Home, prayer and introspection

Taught me: What of it?

The Noble Way

Was my choice.

Not to say, though,

That longing

Did not belong,

It resonated,

Day

By year.

21 Jan 98

After Thomas Keneally’s memoir of religious calling, ‘Homebush Boy’.