alas another beck poem


Whispers

Do not whisper it abroad
Yet but I do hear the Whitelass
Willows hum my child chants.
They say
"Heal the scab on my knee please.
Let Miss Knaggs like me (or me her)
Let me love for longer each celandine,
Each thing the vicar tells me."

At home now
I realise I never can be
That child behind my yesterday
But love that I would want to play
Tomorrow with all that's known
And unknown...

"It is my tea set don't you see?
I can also take your ball away"

So said they some day.

Beside my beck I dance full handed
Knowing shallowness brings only bullyheads...
And there are not enough jam jars.
Soon the snows will melt and amid the
Surges so tiny they trickle to the eye-
Minnows will move down stream.
I will plant my wellingtons and hitch both sleeves
Not knowing how I'm earning the best parts
Of my personality until later.

Sat on the bank within the willows
All is whispering well.














Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 379 times
Written on 2012-05-04 at 23:22

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
My dad was fond of Wellingtons, and also of nature. I wear the shapeless woven slip-ons of a minimum-wage earning third-world drudge (not an inaccurate portrait).

The last four lines of this poem are fabulous.
2012-05-08



I am so happy when you return to nature (whether it's in your mind or reality I don't know, and it doesn't matter), because it means a poem such as this will follow. The two beck poems are, I don't know, happy-looking-back-looking foward poems. I love 'em. A happy childhood moment by water, clad in Wellies—it just doesn't get any better. Such a gentle, happy poem.
2012-05-05