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SUBURBAN CASTLE

Gone are the moats

now gates are in place

threats of invasion everywhere.

 

Deliveries as of old wait in the cold

no - one throws open a bedroom window to say:

"Here boy: take this half a crown,

bring me the biggest turkey in town.

 

What would be the the point?

Yet Daddy never forgets to read

Dicken's tales of earlier times

when the Peter Pan children go up to bed.

◄ DISCOVERY

MARY ►

Comments

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raypool

Tue 2nd Jul 2019 20:45

A very perceptive summary Martin, thanks. Yes, I do shudder at the idea of mini estates existing within an enclave. I first encountered it as a child taken for a long walk to where the Kennedy Memorial now stands; a magic area with blackberry woods and twisted elms. Beyond this was this a laundered area with no people present , that was in the fifties. The same hologram exists in more prevalent form today.

Hi David. I do of course indulging in nostalgia, but it can get tedious, and only serves to depress in my opinion. As we reach a certain age it becomes a bit like one of those screens in surgeries we all remember from comedy shows. We hide in a semblance of decency and then have to come out wearing socks.
I did pivot the poem on that line - possibly not exactly correct, but the gist is there! Really that was like the climax of Scrooge's terror in a release.

Thanks fellas.

Also for the likes, Jon, Dor. and Devon!
Obliged.

Ray

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Martin Elder

Sat 29th Jun 2019 17:23

There is that old saying that an every Englishman is king of his own castle. I have a feeling it maybe Churchill who either made if famous or used in a speech somewhere. But I stand to be corrected if that is not the case.
At any rate it is quite an old ideal the notion of every Brit pulling up the drawbridge and not be accessible to the outside world. I can see the need for protection but sometimes we all to readily cut ourselves off from everybody. I guess you hint at the wider implications of that in your poem here Ray.
Nice one mate

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