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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