LOST IN THE GARDEN

Old property, soot deposited attics,
dusty pavemants,

huge 'H' antennas
teetering atop crooked roofs -
and though we ourselves owned
a posh new indoor one,
outdoor 'cupboards' for WCs.
How strange that these parts
of our most crusty 'infrastructure'
should be so warmly brought
forward from our memory banks!
There even exists a web site
full of collected memorabilia
from living in Friern Barnet -
mostly from the late fifties -
and of course, fewer and fewer
of us former residents are
still on this 'mortal coil'
to view as each year passes.
Where I lived, the house,
the avenue; the living dust
containing my childhood DNA,
has been bulldozed complete

away from where newer
innocent children carelessly play.
My wishes and dreams spent
into open air, reamain there
somehow supported amid the soil.
I wonder what of my life
will be seived in future
years by eager, anticipating
archeologists? A toy?
A blazer button maybe -
the one I lost in the garden?

 

© Griffonner 2023





Poetry by Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 94 times
Written on 2023-09-30 at 10:30

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Marie Cadavieco The PoetBay support member heart!
It does sound as if Friern Barnet is suffering the same fate as Watford, where I grew up, after moving from Manchester at an early age. In fact I only moved to Norfolk when my son married and moved here just after I retired.

Thinking of someone sifting through debris and finding your button seems so sad, and suddenly I feel archaeology IS a very sad profession.

I, too, looked up Friern Barnet and found a photo of the 'old town hall' and, oh, my goodness, I thought it was the Watford Town Hall! My, oh my, that architect had a good deal, being paid to design town halls and just raking out the same set of plans and giving them a tweak! 😂😂

This poem really gave me lots to think about, being so poetically and simply expressed.
Marie xxx
2023-10-03


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
I "googled" Friern Barnet, and looked at images, and read a little about it.

Even with the old houses gone, it seems to still have the feel of old England, the churches and other buildings from an early time—at least to my eyes. I grew up in suburban Chicago, very little in the way of antiquity there.

I enjoyed this poem. It felt honest, conveying what it meant to see your childhood home and haunts gone.

Thank you for sharing.
2023-10-02


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Something to ponder. A fine reminisce, Allen.
2023-10-01