For the last Open Link Night at dVerse I posted some poems about rooms I have known,. I promised more, so here’s another instalment, as and I’m still mining the ideas that crowded in while writing them.
Beaulieu
Dadsdad’s asbestos bungalow
by the river, on stilts:
hideous on the outside
delicious on the inside –
the tiny pentagon sitting room
full of dark wood carved torture for chairs
and sideboards with secrets ─
Aunty had been a Paris milliner ─
a treasure trove of trimmings,
and piles of Saturday Evening Posts.
Wonder of wonders in nineteen forty-six
a walnut cabinet stood on the floor
looking nothing much ‘til you opened the door
then lo and behold a tiny screen
came to life in black and white –
well, more like misty grey if I’m truthful,
with fizzy scrolling lines
from side to side
or up and down.
You twiddled strangely-named knobs
to no avail, so you thumped it to a life
of variety shows
with jugglers and acrobats, magicians and singers,
boring talkers with strangled posh accents,
wearing full evening dress.
We’d sit squashed side by side in the darkness
until Aunty would say in accented disapproval
“Marion, is this entertainment?”
and switch off.
This reminds me of Uncle
Ed’s dark spiral stair case..
not an uncle really.. my Grandmother’s
friend with the same old stale smelled
car.. from years ago working at
the train station.. anyway..
a photo of a beautiful
woman is his wife
who died
young
and WiLL
never age
further from
that photo.. in a dusty
small bedroom spiraling up
at the top of stares.. i suppose
my first experience of melancholy
at age 5.. or so.. through eYes
of a man.. whose wife
would never
age with
him longer..
sadly enclosed
in metal
frame
of yesternows
alWays now..
who would ever compete..
no one.. could.. first and last Love…
should’a.. would’ a.. could’ a.. Loved More..:)
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I love your spiral staircase presentation..
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Thanks for the inspiration of your poem.. My friend..:)
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Sounds like a great room!
I think fondly of my Nan’s living room in a Speke flat – I can still see it quite clearly, more than forty years later. And her kitchen with the overhead, pull down drying rack. And her milk bottles in a bucket of cold water on the balcony. And the long, cool hallway. And…I feel a poem coming on! Thanks for the inspiration 🙂
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We still have a pull-down drying rack, though we haven’t fitted it here. But I’ve never been without one for my whole life. We had two in the car port at our last house. Good poeming!
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Vivienne, have I told you lately what a joy your poems are to me? Trust that they are! I appreciate this greatly!
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Thank you so much, Walt. I do try to make them enjoyable!
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The description of that TV is fantastic. I remember those days when a good solid ‘thump’ was the best cure for a blurry TV.
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Great memories. What is it about aunts? I had one who used to come round to visit in the evenings and, at a certain time, would say ‘isn’t it about time these children were in bed?’. Needless to say we used to hate it when she came round even though we were fascinated by her because she was the most glamorous of all our relatives and seemed very ‘posh’. Were you allowed to rummage through the Parisian millinery scraps?
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Oh yes – and a button box brimming with chic. You wouldn’t dare pull her leg, but she’d always say “I must be off” , so when anyone else said it we’d finish the sentence with “to hide behind a tree, and when Aunty comes along, I’ll jump out at her”!
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Ah that is a fantastic ending – and I love the richness of your memories and the interesting contrasts you build in here –
Have a good weekend.
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and you, Abhra
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“torture for chairs
and sideboards with secrets ─”
Dining rooms are usually under appreciated by children.. Ah, but the tv … that is a great description and “is that entertainment” so classic. Nice job.
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This teased out so many special memories for me. My grandparents house, knotty pine walls and, in 1948, the arrival of the 12 inch TV with nothing but “snow” after a certain time. Your Aunty had the right idea–TV’s were the first symptom in a decline of family togetherness but, growing up, I never remember it holding a very important part in our lives. Loved the details in this.
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When I was growing up, there were only programmes for about 3 hours a daym, and it did tend to bring families together: we lived just down the road from Grandad’s bungalow, and would go round most Saturdays for the adults to play cards, and then for all of us to watch television when it came on.
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Yes, I remember.
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Ah, those early days of television when it was on for one or two hours a day. For the rest of the day, it was a test pattern. 😀 >
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I can’t believe it! A poem about an aunt! I’m currently writing ‘aunt’ poems to submit to The Emma Press. This is either one of those weird coincidences or you’re doing the same thing! Either way, I love it.
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She was my step grandmother, but we children called her Aunty. She was Belgian, an autocrat, and insisted everyone called her Madame! I’ve written poems about my real Aunts, who were great.
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I just looked at Emma Press, and they are asking for love poems rather than Aunties. I’m useless at writing love poetry!
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I got the info on the ‘aunt’ poems from Mslexia, so maybe that’s in the pipeline. I’ll find out!
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Evocative and funny! I had an aunt like that once – who kept commenting on those ‘long-haired singers, probably full of lice…’
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What a wonderful journey through memory.
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I do so enjoy this “rooms” series…the last two lines of this made me smile hugely. Today I sit back and exclaim – Really? – or I think I can skip this. but those images were hypnotic and miraculous. I liked this so very much.
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I’m so glad. At my age there are a lot more memories than there are new ideas!
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Well of course it was entertainment, Aunty! I used to love all those old variety shows. Good memories watching television as kids.
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It was the pompous droners lecturing us that Aunty didn’t like
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This is awesome!
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This is lovely 🙂
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You bring it all back to me Viv ~ Those were the days when everyone watches TV at the same time with those big knobs ~
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And although there was only one channel then, so you didn’t have to spend ages choosing – it was either on or off.
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Such vivid word painting. I can truly almost see it too….
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Your memory is so full of such detail. History comes alive!
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My memory is very visual, which makes it easy for me.
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Ah, those old black and white televisions. A fond memory of mine as well. So glad that you continue to write ‘room’ poems, Viv. I think the subject has really triggered something in you.
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I love this Viv, such a vivid recall of days past. I so remember those TVs….
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Love it… how those old TV-sets could captivate with that nothingness even when I was a kid… (especially in our country home)..
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We’d even sit glued to the test card!
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What a wonderful memory of time spent in this room. 🙂 Peace, Linda
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