Tube station blues

Busker strums at the bottom of the automated staircase

his little dog slowly cutely spins round and round

helping in its canine beggarly way to inspire donations.

 

These moving steps I get on trundle me upwards.

Suddenly I remember the tune the guy is playing and

it returns my mind to the school morning assembly hall

where we are all readying to sing our daily hymns

my harvest festival favourite being, the one I'm hearing at this moment

' we plough the fields and scatter' 

  

just that one opening line

its perfect description to me of my journey through life towards death.

 

I feel a strong urge however foolish to descend

and ask the guitarist ' why are you playing that one?'

but fortunately, I've been conveyed too far and

blocked by too many people to do so

 

as I have been for so many years

by meeting as I furrowed through each of the future's grounds

those who seek to impede my progress

and the determinations that I had always tried so hard to maintain

and avoid falling by the wayside.

 

Years without guiding handrails like these I'm presently holding

years without safety switches that are protecting my ascension

unlike long ago helplessly being carried to unforeseen highs and lows.

 

For now, it is these analogically stirred school day memories

that I am cherishing

each of them having been kick-started by the headmasters

loudly bolstering of our college and university aspirations

in his dutiful masterly way.

 

This escalating ride ends in daylight

where the crowds and I gradually scatter

to our own, productive, or not, fields of business

and personal privacies.

    

 

◄ A love kill

Going back leads nowhere ►

Comments

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Rose Casserley

Tue 28th May 2019 17:04

Jems, I am over the moon that you are back babe! and I see from your comment that we both ended our school days in the same 'less educated ways

never mind chuck, we'll survive! ?





Rose ?

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Jemima Jones

Mon 27th May 2019 15:05

As they say, Rose, the happiest days of our lives are those we have spent in school and, I truly believe that. This wonderful poem, its ending takes me back to the beginning of my school days too. Unfortunately, however much the headmaster or any of the teachers tried to bolster my aspirations, I sadly never did match up to their expectations. Fabulous piece Rose. Thank you. Jemima.

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Rose Casserley

Sat 25th May 2019 22:53

thank's Wildeys!







Rose ?

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Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Sat 25th May 2019 11:23

Rose, we absolutely adore 'analogically, stirred memories.' This is such a great poem and one so many we're sure so many people can easily relate to when it comes to remembering one's school days.

P&S xx

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Rose Casserley

Fri 24th May 2019 13:35

thank you very much for liking mona.







Rose ?

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