Jul. 9, 2017
94 Ranelagh Road Autumn 1947
His birth home - three
stories over basement -
up ten granite steps
to the front door
Victorian grandeur
- now a tenement -
stairs and landings
oil lamp lit at night
A country family
below stairs
would bring turf
- a lorry load
tipped over
wrought iron
spiked railings
onto the grass
The boy - aged three
in tiny dungarees
equipped with a
net shopping bag
traipsed turf
sod at a time
down the long
narrow garden -
in through the
darkened flat to
be well stacked
out in the yard
He steady marched
as the day went on
through the drizzle -
on important work
Later in the evening
- exhaustion then fever
Next day an ambulance
- his first near death
Peter Clarke
Corina Grace
19.07.2017 16:04
Haunting....
Dominique
19.07.2017 16:03
Beautiful poem Peter! Such an evoking image of a little boy in dungarees, and then - fever! Really moving.
Latest comments
25.11 | 22:15
Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.
07.11 | 11:14
Hi Peter,
A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there
Hugs,
John.x
06.11 | 16:24
A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.
06.11 | 15:59
Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.
In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.