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BENT OVER GEOGRAPHY

BENT OVER GEOGRAPHY

 

When off school sick

dad would bring me toast

in bed before he went to work

then leave me crumbed up

in a world of dreams,

ear stuck to a transistor

as the day went on its way

beyond closed curtains

in the blind distance

of car horns and shouting

over garden fences.

I'd suck mints if boredom

and loneliness crept in

or season permitting,

pop downstairs barefoot

to the catch the horse racing

with an inner happiness

that pals were pushing

pens, bent over geography

or maths just aching

for the bell's release.

 

Published in Atrium 2018.

 

◄ WORLDS APART

TRAP ►

Comments

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john short

Tue 4th Sep 2018 22:53

Thanks to all three of you for the positive comments. I'm pleased to be able to call up some similar memories for others. It seems that these sort of poems that evoke time or place are quite popular.

On the subject of submitting to magazines and the fear of rejection it's as well to remember that we are all rejected about 90% of the time so not worth worrying about. As each magazine aspires to have its own identity and voice you just have to try to balance your creative inspiration according what you judge they want to hear.

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M.C. Newberry

Tue 4th Sep 2018 17:38

Even a genuine case of a "sicky" had its compensations.
These lines bring back the memory of mother bringing me
meals in bed. Such a long time ago now, but suddenly
I can see the images from a fondly recalled 1950s Wiltshire home in my mind's eye.
Thanks for this chance to make the return trip!

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Taylor Crowshaw

Tue 4th Sep 2018 12:13

Liked this thank you ?

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