deepundergroundpoetry.com

That sort of Street

Red, wood and graphite                                
sharpened at the other end                                                        
drawing simple  messages.                                  
leaning on the  desk.                        
My books beneath the lid,                                  
An ink-well on the right                
A mix of  water and black powder                  
teachers.theirs from a bottle                  
'Stevens' on the label.                        
red,permanent,. the mark  7/10 ,                        
because of blots and spelling.                              
Teachers  unmarried ladies                            
It was the 30's    (peace a mere 20 years)'                            
Their dreams no more at Ypres.                        
The head was Mr.Scaife.                                      
 Built in the early 30's                                  
Joyce sat beside me,lived at 11.                                  
I left for grammar-school. Joyce did not.                                  
We lived next-door at 13.                                  
until our 'teens,playing                                  
with Ken and Peter Holmes.                                  
That's how it was .                              
The other side even numbered                                
Wheatley ,Gregory.  I forget the rest.                                
It was that sort of street.                                  
Privet hedges every side.                                  
Elms planted in the 20s Dead by 1940.                                  
Elm disease,  the street left bare.                              
as any street today, But they had tried                      
That's how it was.            .                      
Privet at the front                                  
The gates are gone,                        
Four sash windows at the front,                            
Concrete posts and wire, wash post                        
ash and cinder path at the back .                              
Three up and two down..                              
It is that sort of street.                  
They bombed the other end                
Burnt a house and killed a dog.                        
Odd numbers this side, even on the other                                  
Grass verges  gone, asphalt crumbling curbs.                                  
At least they'd tried.                        
It was that sort of street .                                
The pencil sharpened many times    
the stub lies in my pocket,  
sharpened either end    
flakes of wood in the sharpener    
clamped to teacher's desk .                                
Desks  now modern tables.                                                        
Joyce dispersed with the rest,                                  
Never met again. lost touch                            
It was that sort of street .                            
So with her sisters ,                          
Margaret, Pat and Dorothy                          
and there was Fred.                            
Pat became a nurse,                          
We all did  fairly well,                        
As well as was  expected                          
in that sort of street..                            
Their father drove a Naafi van                            
Times I went with him,                          
There was a war and aerodromes. .                            
There always was a  war.                              
At least they'd tried..                        
It was that sort of street.      .                            
    
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published | Edited 14th Oct 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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