Hello Gill, Many congratulations on your chap book. I saw that you were at
the Dead Good Poets in Liverpool recently and would have liked to have met
you, But I am hopeless at driving in the city these days and the group I
belong too had something on that evening.
I do like this poem and as a former nurse and also being a patient myself
recently I do emphasise with the sentiments in your poem.
I am not so sure about the first three lines though and think the poem could
start at. "You came to tell me it was run". But otherwise a lovely poem for
me. bw Sally J
>From: Gill McEvoy <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: new post. The Bath.
>Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2006 22:22:29 +0100
>
>I apologise to you all that I haven't posted/commented lately; been very
>busy with the launch of "Uncertain Days" my first chap book. But it's
>sailed away now, and I'm back to normal things again.
>
>This poem was written recently - and no doubt wants much improving - but
>it comes from 6 years ago when I was so ill I was in the local Hospice for
>a while, where a very kind Irish nurse gave me the best bath of my life!
>
>The Bath.
>
>(The point of that bath was not to be clean -
>I had gone nowhere but my bed and
>was already washed.)
>You came to tell me it was run,
>walked before me, your arms full of towels,
>as if I were a lady and you my maid.
>You helped me in, your hands tender for my safety;
>I sank into a sweetness of heat and foam,
>each burst bubble like a letting go of pain.
>'Take your time', you said, and in that time
> I cruised islands of warm sand and soft ocean,
>woodlands moist with leaves and mist,
>summer days with bright red berries blinking out
>from golden straw, came back
>to you wrapping me gently in hot towels.
>It was like those nights of perfect sleep,
>soft, starless, bliss.
>
>Gill McEvoy.
>
>I'd be very glad of comments.
>
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