1. To See The Scotsman.
2. Disobedience.
3. To The Rescue.
4. The Sinful Bite
5.Smiggy And Me.
6. The Accident.
7. Just Ain't Cricket
8. Treacle Toffee
9. The Tricycle
10. Grand Night Out
11. The Last Time
12. Mending A Memory
The pushchair
Had no springs;
Every bump jarred
My baby bones.
The wheels clattered
Over the gravel path.
The sound of breath
Whistling through teeth.
Dotted with words and whoops of delight
Made me giggle.
We headed pell-mell
For the bridge;
The flying Scotsman was coming,
The brothers must see it.
I was clinging for my life
When suddenly, clunk..
The front wheels came off!
I went flying through the air
Propelled forward, landing on my face.
My little lungs
Expelled the air explosively.
On it’s way up it
Played a tune on my vocal chords
Pushing out a scream of agony.
Blood spurted,
Tears and snot
mingled
To paint my face a horror.
Gravel in my mouth;
Newly grown teeth
Hung on bloody pieces of gum.
Grandma, gardening
At that precise moment.
Came running.
Poor Podge and Degs
Got a clip around their ear holes
And the Scotsman flew by unnoticed.
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
The water would call
As if it were Lorelei luring me,
Yet Lorelei dwells far away
Not in the grand union canal!
I would stand and sway
Dance with the reeds,
Fly with the dragon fly
And lie to watch the roach
Chin cupped in grubby hands.
I became as the chameleon,
Dark chestnut head among
A stand of bull rushes
Watching the moorhen;
Intoxicated by the salty tang
Of the reeds,
Hypnotized by water boatmen
Skimming the surface;
Until the low throb throbbing beat
Of an approaching narrow boat
Would snap me back
Bringing me to my bare feet,
Running to meet them
Waving and calling
“Whatcha carryin’ mister?”
Then before I got an answer
I was caught.
There on the other side
Over the wall
My mothers angry face;
A finger pointing was enough
To send me scuttling home
With an already tingling hide,
Knowing there would be
An early night
And no tea for me.
Yet I knew next time
I wouldn’t be so impetuous.
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
Da-dad-da-daaaa-
The US Cavalry had arrived
Just in time to rescue
The homesteaders from a fate worse than death.
Roy Rogers fired into the air
In exultation
As reinforcements crested the hills
To swoop down and free his sweetheart
From the evil clutches of the Sioux.
The Redskins were circling,
Wreaking dastardly torments
On the wretched creature bound to the totem,
Whoopin’ and a hollerin’ a war dance-
“Come on you lot, mam sez we’re ‘avin’
Our picture took“
Gill's shrill voice penetrated,
freeze framed the action-
Tumbleweed and cacti fractured and faded,
The totem morphed into a silver birch
Part of the copse at the top of the field,
On that English Summer Sunday afternoon.
The grainy black and white
Rag-tag family group, re-emerged
My reminiscing eyes re-focused.
I smiled fondly as
The beginings of rebellion resonated,
Then gradually crackled
Into a million Whispers
That echoed across
The long lost decades.
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
Mr Griffin the baker
Wrapped the still warm loaf
In a brown paper bag
The tantalizing yeasty aroma
Of freshly baked bread
Tickled and tweaked my five year old nose
I walked away from his battered old blue van
With an overwhelming temptation
To bite the corner from the crusty delicacy
All fear of a stinging behind forgotten
As the delightful smell crept further and further
Up my nostrils to tease the pleasure zones of my brain.
Once bitten, chewed, savoured and swallowed
Realization of the sin committed
Became immense and unforgivable-
I crept through the back door
Slid the mutilated evidence of my crime
Onto the kitchen table
And legged it up the stairs and into my bed
Anticipating punishment,
Yet hoping to avoid the red bottom-
I fell asleep to the distant drone
Of ‘Dick Barton Special Agent’ on the wireless
Waking only briefly as gentle hands
Took off my dungarees and tucked me in for the night.
©
Copyright
VMM 2005
Smiggy the black and white Jack Russell
barked excitedly, his tiny paws lifting off the ground
each time his jaws snapped together.
The blackberries lay bruised and bleeding juice
over the pavement.
My Robertson’s jam jar was smashed to smithereens
yet the label remained intact
and the golliwog’s grin undiminished mocked me
from its' resting place among the shards.
By this time Smiggy had stopped yapping,
his pink tongue lolled between black lips,
he looked pleased with the chaos he had caused.
I stared at the bloody gaping wound
on my knee and screamed out my agony.
Knee bathed and elastoplasted
I was taken to see Dr Redmond.
He of the Johnny Walker whisky breath
and seven-o-clock shadow chin.
Each bump and jolt of the Midland Red Bus
jarred my knee and squeezed out yet another
sob from my miserable little mouth
as I felt the cat gut pull
and the antiseptic sting my flesh.
A tenderly meant wipe of a scatchy hankie,
moistened with mummy spit
mopped up self pitying teardrops
from smudged and grubby cheeks;
a rustle of paper,
and an orange flavoured Spangle was
popped into my mouth to
lift its’ corners, as well as my spirits.
Slowly light dawned, if I played my cards right
Grandma would share her Horlicks
With me tonight.
©
copyright
VMM
2005
Degs was sitting on the branch
Podge had shinned half way up,
While I was at the bottom of the tree
With my dress held out
to catch the illegal plums
All fat and juicy.
My mouth was watering
In anticipation…
“Leave them plums alone our Mu
And keep yer eyes peeled”
Podge’s harsh whisper came
Hissing down the tree.
I looked guiltily around
Checking this way and that.
Then I saw him,
All corduroy and gaiters.
His shot gun broken, tucked under one arm,
The other arm punching the air
His mouth moving ominously.
The plums went flying,
I was off like a rocket
Toward the rally banks.
Thump oomph!
“Wooah watchit”
The sound of running feet behind me.
Gasps of breath sucked into
Bursting lungs…
A roar from the road,
A sickening crunch
A clatter,
Then silence…
I halted,
Podge and Degs halted,
The corduroy and gaiters halted,
We all turned to gawp.
Flushed with horror
And excitement
We headed for the road.
Plums forgotten,
Eyes full of broken bodies and blood.
A mangled motor bike
And a drunken telegraph pole.
A single curl of smoke
Drifting from the bike
Told me time was still moving.
Suddenly, I was snatched up
In strong arms and whisked indoors.
Podge and Degs dragged by their shirt collars
Followed in sharp time, protesting loudly.
I looked back
Just in time to see
Two broken bodies disappear beneath a tarpaulin
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
With home made bat
and tennis ball,
wickets chalked upon the wall
Freddie Truman
takes his aim
blasting the novice batsman’s game.
“OWZAT!!”
screams Freddie
“c’mon yer out”
“No I ain’t,” I say, with a pout
“it never ‘it the bloomin’ wicket.
c’mon Podge this ain’t cricket!”
Podge stares me out
with steely smile.
“LBW by a mile!”
I throw the bat onto the floor
“ I ain’t playin’ with you no more
LBW! Just ain’t fair
play with Degs you mangy cur!”
I’m just a girl
but I ain’t no fool!
You just made up
that stupid rule!”
©
Copyright
VMM2005
Mum Loved the wintertime.
When we were kids
she could always fool us with the clock
and get us into bed early.
While in summertime she re-hung
the black out curtains.
During school holidays
she would happily let us make treacle toffee;
eating it tied our tongues for hours.
©
Copyright
VMM2005
The tricycle tantalised me
it stood between us
like a tyrant’s taunt.
We were buddies you and I
I lusted after the tricycle
but it belonged to you.
I knew that you cared for me
but you loved your tricycle more
than you prized me.
You gazed into my eyes
and saw my desire,
you laughed and peddled
away down the path
and out into the street
“Daisy, Daisy give me you answer do”
That was the last time
we played together that Summer.
©
Copyright
VMM2007
It was to be a grand night out
with music and dancing.
He had refused to dance,
said he would rather watch
so they sat together in silence.
She heard the merriment of their friends,
envied them.
He excused himself, went off to the men’s room.
She used to say he had the fastest zip in the West
because he always came back
before she was aware he had gone.
That night was different;
he was gone for an age.
The dancers
whirled and twirled,
twirled and whirled.
while she sat alone waiting
and the knot of fear in her belly grew
with each passing second.
She took herself off
and found him
in the arms of her best friend,
laughing down into her eyes
his mouth just above hers
their breaths mingling
their hips touching
swaying in time to the music.
She felt invisible,
as though she had ceased to exist;
of course in a way she had…
Gaunt, was always
The word that fitted you best,
Even from the first time I saw you
It suited you,
Added a mysterious air
To your devil may care
Demeanour.
Tall and slim
To the point of scrag end, I used to joke,
That was when
We were still in love,
Could still laugh at each other’s silliness.
Gaunt, was still
How I saw you that last time,
By then, you were
Staring from liver diseased eyes
Grinning with cigarette stained teeth
Smelling of decay and cheap whiskey.
There was no longer any mystery ,
Yet, the devil remained…
Uncaring.
©
copyright
VMM2005
I found it folded neatly in a box
of stuff from way back, when life was easy.
I took it out and shook the dust away
and the memories poured forth, made me sway
with the force of their potency, snapping
me back in time to the day I wore it
my wedding. It wasn’t a traditional
wedding gown just a black and white sheath dress,
yet elegant in its simplicity.
As the dust motes danced in the morning light
the stale fragrance of Evening In Paris
assailed my senses and re-ignited
awareness too long dulled by monotony.
As long dead faces and voices echoed
across the lost years my eye caught the tear
in the pleat at the back of the precious frock.
I set about mending it instantly
as I did so memories good and bad
merged and became a whole experience.
Peace came as I mended a memory…
©
Copyright
VMM2008