I’d agree, Max, generally. But the sudden appearance of ‘Calf implants’ is a neat little violation of a story that kept me thinking of Stalky & Co.
Doug
> On Sep 7, 2016, at 8:38 PM, Andrew Burke <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> Well, both streams (as defined by Bill) can be made to plait together to
> arrive at greater strength for the narrative. And the young man's interest
> in breasts could be set up earlier, coming to the only interest in 'old'
> age being telling the fake ones from the youthful natural ones!
>
> I think it is a draft of a very good poem, one to be worked on somewhat
> objectively.
>
> Andrew
>
> On 8 September 2016 at 09:19, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
>> Interesting, Max, if overly meanderful I think. I liked the opening five
>> stanzas best and the dawning Fascist moment at assembly. The
>> goofy classmate fight loses its way for me and the beach stuff at the end
>> sounds like a rambling postscript. Maybe there are two poems here: one on
>> calves or lack thereof and one on surprising military acumen, aspiration,
>> disappointment.
>>
>> Bill
>>
>> On Thursday, 8 September 2016, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]>
>> wrote:
>>
>>> School Socks and Calves
>>>
>>> Calf-high socks in the ’fifties
>>> were Auckland school uniform.
>>> The socks on short strong Chris Brown
>>> stayed up while mine slipped down.
>>>
>>> He aspired to lead, became
>>> Regimental Sergeant Major
>>> of our Cadet Battalion -
>>> on then to Duntroon,
>>>
>>> Sandhurst of our region.
>>> I liked Cadets - not so much
>>> the drill as the weapons,
>>> old rifles, and Bren Guns.
>>>
>>> Firing twenty-twos on
>>> the school rifle range was
>>> the only sport I did well in.
>>> I even won a prize -
>>>
>>> for coming third:
>>> Tom Brown’s Schooldays.
>>> Rugby School! - long pants
>>> and facing up to bullies.
>>>
>>> Of which we had our share.
>>> I bring to mind M.A.G.Bell
>>> spoiling for an unfair fight
>>> during the lunch-hour
>>>
>>> with my goofy classmate,
>>> John, Christian, splayed feet,
>>> turning the other cheek -
>>> he'd not, provoked, hit back.
>>>
>>> Bell’s socks flopped below
>>> his sturdy calves to show
>>> defiance of rules -
>>> rules policed by prefects
>>>
>>> selected each year from
>>> those senior boys who
>>> had a bossy streak or
>>> excelled at sport.
>>>
>>> Brown, you’re one!
>>> To my surprise I also
>>> got the silver badge.
>>> Should have said no.
>>>
>>> It was my keenness
>>> on Cadets, always
>>> wearing my cap straight,
>>> and my socks up,
>>>
>>> thanks to Mum’s elastic.
>>> My calves alone never
>>> achieved the trick.
>>> Bossiness I was bad at,
>>>
>>> but liked morning assembly,
>>> standing on a box up front,
>>> towering over third-formers,
>>> themselves still boy sopranos,
>>>
>>> baritone-bellowing ‘School, stand!’
>>> as the Head in black gown
>>> swept in with a train
>>> of black-gowned masters
>>>
>>> to sit on stage behind him.
>>> ‘School, sit!’ Restlessness
>>> quelled by my voice!
>>> It was my Fascist moment.
>>>
>>> Luckily the Army, needing
>>> for Anzac Day a squad
>>> of those proven good
>>> at drill, looked at a line of us
>>>
>>> for military bearing,
>>> and de-selected me,
>>> thanks to my skinniness.
>>> A painful moment overdue.
>>>
>>> Chris. standing as tall as he
>>> could, consoled me, smugly.
>>> For years I stayed away
>>> from every Anzac Day.
>>>
>>> Conscripted at eighteen
>>> we weren’t issued shorts.
>>> We bruised our shoulders
>>> on Enfield three-o-threes;
>>>
>>> graduating in due course
>>> to Army Reserve in years
>>> of my lucky generation’s
>>> rose-spectacled peace.
>>>
>>> My friends liked shorts,
>>> I shielded my shy
>>> calves from sunburn
>>> and condescension
>>>
>>> and satirical snorts
>>> till stiff senescence.
>>> Now belated reports
>>> reach me: Calf implants! -
>>>
>>> on men? Since when? Decades?
>>> Too late for me, even back then.
>>> The year I could see
>>> I was growing up skinny -
>>>
>>> finding 'body-building’
>>> quite beyond me -
>>> was when I might have
>>> dreamed of ‘surgery’,
>>>
>>> but for the expense.
>>> The word now is ‘enhance’ -
>>> Don’t even say ‘cosmetic’,
>>> just: ‘had them enhanced’.
>>>
>>> How many fine calves
>>> strutting the beach
>>> now and in future years
>>> are as false as the smiles
>>>
>>> stretching their face?
>>> Or the reshaped chests
>>> on their female friends?
>>> Many? Not that nowadays
>>>
>>> I’m much on the beach
>>> spying on bikini breasts -
>>> or not that anyone - much -
>>> can notice, I trust.
>>>
>>
>
>
>
> --
> Andrew
> http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
> Books available through Walleah Press
> http://walleahpress.com.au
Douglas Barbour
[log in to unmask]
https://eclecticruckus.wordpress.com/
Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuations 2 (UofAPress).
Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
Four or five couplets trying to dance
into Persia. Who dances in Persia now?
A magic carpet, a prayer mat, red.
A knocked off head of somebody on her broken knees.
Phyllis Webb
|