Thanks, Andrew. Working towards a second collection.
Cheers,
Bill
On Thu, 8 Jun 2017 at 12:16 PM, Andrew Burke <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Yes, a great poem. It builds gently, almost introspectively. And memories
> of teenage times! They are swamping me but I'm a tad older than you, Bill,
> so think also of the future!!
>
> Enough poems for a collection yet?
>
>
> Andrew
>
> On 8 June 2017 at 05:01, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> > Thanks, Doug.
> >
> > Bill
> >
> > On Thu, 8 Jun 2017 at 12:48 am, Douglas Barbour <[log in to unmask]>
> > wrote:
> >
> > > A great tale, Bill. Memories just emerge some times…
> > >
> > > Doug
> > > > On Jun 7, 2017, at 3:17 AM, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]>
> > > wrote:
> > > >
> > > > OK, Sheila. Felicity was always kind of beatific in her way.
> > > >
> > > > Bill
> > > >
> > > > On Wed, 7 Jun 2017 at 6:10 pm, Sheila Murphy <
> [log in to unmask]>
> > > > wrote:
> > > >
> > > >> I think the real names make the poems even better!
> > > >>
> > > >> On Jun 7, 2017 1:05 AM, "Bill Wootton" <[log in to unmask]>
> > > wrote:
> > > >>
> > > >>> Thanks, Sheila, Patrick. These teen things, Patrick just pop into
> my
> > > head
> > > >>> sometimes. Felicity, real first name, lives in Perth, WA now, I
> know
> > > >>> through Facebook and is married with four grown boys. Should I
> change
> > > the
> > > >>> names completely of people in memory poems do you think?
> > > >>>
> > > >>> Bill
> > > >>>
> > > >>> On Wed, 7 Jun 2017 at 5:49 PM, Sheila Murphy <
> > [log in to unmask]>
> > > >>> wrote:
> > > >>>
> > > >>>> Great piece, Bill. Exceptionally fine. Sheila
> > > >>>>
> > > >>>> On Wed, Jun 7, 2017 at 12:30 AM, Bill Wootton <
> > > >> [log in to unmask]>
> > > >>>> wrote:
> > > >>>>
> > > >>>>> Chuck school bag onto pile at the front of bus
> > > >>>>> next to driver. Pay him, scrunch ticket in pocket,
> > > >>>>> lurch on to bus, flop into seat or stand all the way till
> > > >>>>> your stop, squeeze past, filch out bag and off you get.
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> Only two green bags amongst the sea of black and red
> > > >>>>> Xavierites, blue PLCs and a sprinkling of other denominations
> > > >>>>> so retrieval always an easy matter. Except this time.
> > > >>>>> When you see your reflection in Knorr's grocer shop window,
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> the bag looks different. Tidier. Feels lighter. Surely that Pure
> > > >>>>> Maths book weighed more. Swing bag down. Sure enough.
> > > >>>>> You've grabbed Felicity's by mistake. The only other student
> > > >>>>> from your school who rides this bus, both ways, most days.
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> Felicity. Slightly skewiff smiling Felicity who you've known
> since
> > > >>>>> primary school. Who used to be such a chatterbox. Whose words
> > > >>>>> dried up with the transition to high school as she developed
> > > >>>>> awareness of her placid beauty and rationed its implications.
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> What now? Head after her to swap bags? She might already
> > > >>>>> be home. You know where she lives. Queen Street. But you can't
> > > >>>>> just rock up there unannounced. Her Mum might not be home,
> > > >>>>> Mrs Shawhurst, who sometimes gives you a lift in her cool white
> > Jag.
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> At home, don't throw bag in the corner of your bedroom like
> normal.
> > > >>>>> Place it on the bed. Do home things. Forget about it. Until after
> > > >> tea.
> > > >>>>> Homework time. Can't do it. Stare at bag. Dare you? Unzip it?
> Just
> > > >>>>> a bag. Like yours. But it's. Felicity's. Go on. Who'll know?
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> Next day, Saturday, bite the bullet. You both have homework to
> do.
> > > >>>>> Ride round on your Malvern Star, 3-speed Sturmey Archer gears.
> > > >>>>> Kick/click down the stand, park on the nature strip out front.
> > > >>>>> Heft bag, climb concrete front patio stairs. Breathe. Knock.
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> Rehearse. Hi Mrs Shawhurst. I've brought round Felicity's bag ...
> > > >>>>> Clunk. Door swings open to reveal not Mrs S but Felicity herself.
> > > >>>>> In jeans, black t-shirt, barefoot, dark hair unponytailed,
> > > >> shimmering.
> > > >>>>> Hi ... I ... Oh, yes, she says, ducking inside, re-emerging
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> with your tatty schoolbag. Stiff-armed threshold exchange.
> > > >>>>> Thanks, she says, as she shuts. Turn. Allow two seconds to take
> > > >>>>> in the view from up there (birches, bitumen, what did you
> expect?)
> > > >>>>> And roll on home, heart returning to workaday beat.
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> It's Sunday before you open the bag. Autograph book on top
> > > >>>>> tumbles out. Is that how you packed it? Flick pages. Falls open
> > > >>>>> at your form two class signatures. What's this? Around the biro
> > > >>>>> impress of six foot heart-throb Jeff Saxby, a pink lipstick
> smudge
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>> bw
> > > >>>>>
> > > >>>>
> > > >>>
> > > >>
> > >
> > > Douglas Barbour
> > > [log in to unmask]
> > > https://eclecticruckus.wordpress.com/
> > >
> > > Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations &
> Continuations
> > > 2 (UofAPress).
> > > Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
> > > Listen. If (UofAPress):
> > >
> > > I go down to the Twilight Arcade
> > > and watch the Martian invaders,
> > > already appalled by our language,
> > > pointing at what they want.
> > >
> > > Bill Manhire
> > >
> >
>
>
>
> --
> Andrew
> http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
> Books available through Walleah Press
> http://walleahpress.com.au
>
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