Partly a poem , partly a story. A story of an experience I had a few years ago.




WHILE TENDING MY SISTERS GRAVE

I was on all fours weeding , planting bulbs, weeding

Thinking, of my sister Anne

Of what could of been , should of been

What was and would always be , sadly

When an old man appeared

We bid each other a good morning

He set about tendering the grave next to Anne's

He started a talking , guess needed to talk some one to listen

The grave he clearing of dryde up flowers and what not

Was that of his wife

They had lived in nearby St. Peters

Had it's own cematory , it was constantly being damaged

Vandals and the like

So he decided Ramsgate , would be a better place for them to lay

All the time the old man talked , I listand to him

As I weeded and planted

I just made a none committal kind of responses

So much that he know he had my ear

Then he went right off the subjeckde of his wife's grave

Started talking about his younger days when he was in Ireland

He were British , English , local hear , well more English

Than British

He had a long away look in his eyes

He'd been a black and tan , nether army nor police , staite inforsers

A law unto them self's , did what ever they liked to the Irish

As he talk , I bit back my growing anger , I swear the color of eyes

Turned black ,

At my shame of being English , there and then as I listened to the old man

Sure I'd read about the black and tans and what they did back then

Hear I was hearing it from one who cared out , outrages , to graphic to type

I'll tell of one he seemed to be rather proud of though , securing a man

To the back of a truck , then driving off , dragging him when he fell

I have a great interest in history , now from reading history

There I were listening to a man who should of been in the Haige

Tho then The Haige , was not an option , a pity

He finished his tendering , he look rather aback when I did not wish him well

'' and by the way I'm part Irish '' was my passing remark.

Ken D Williams

The Dyslexic Wordsmith Of Thanet





Poetry by ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 717 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2013-06-16 at 15:38

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Soup in the Sand
This is absolutely brilliant, Mr. Ken D. Williams. So many emotions churning throughout, indeed...powerful write. That last line was absolutely perfect.

I remember a news story of a man that was chained and dragged behind a truck for miles in Texas some years ago. I was working on a report on current hate crimes in America at the time. It's just astounding what people are capable of....such extreme sentimentality in some areas, and then...callous mindless evil in other areas.

Absolutely stunning piece here, matie. Excellent indeed.
2013-07-28



Mr Williams, this is such a far reaching text. As I read it I went through so many emotions.
Firstly the cemetery. My father is buried in a very old cemetery and within his resting place lies also the ashes of my brother. A few rows away lies my grandparents on my fathers side. My grandfather was of irish stock and many tales he told us of the struggles of his parents against the dreaded black and tans, they were ruthless toward the irish catholics at that time. My grandparents on my mothers side are german, as is my mother. They too have told of the barbarianism they witnessed in war time Germany. I wonder how people could ever be so cruel to others and then I see that cruelty continues today as we hopelessly look on. (Syria, the Israeli/Palestine conflicts). I
It is when we visit the cemetery that I find my emotions so difficult. So many unknown people lie there alongside my dearest dearest loved ones and yet, their history is perhaps lost forever; what could they tell us if only we had listened when they were here among us?

I read your script with more than a hint of a tear in my eye. Who among us can be proud of historical atrocities towards other human beings. I feel your disgust at that old gent and yes, perhaps share it also.

Thank you for such an wonderful story and piece of writing.
Liam
2013-06-29


JK Fisher
Ken, this is one of the most amazing accounts of life and reality that I have ever read. Telling that old man about your 'part Irish' heritage, indeed set the mood for his leaving you with your thoughts, at your sisters grave. Bravo to you, and to your poem.
2013-06-25


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website.
2013-06-23


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Great poem, Ken. The phrase, "the banality of evil," came to mind as I read it.
2013-06-19


shells
To be a good listener is a gift, especially when you are on the receiving end of something like you have described here. Thanks for bringing it to our attention. Keep writing with your blend of realism Ken.
2013-06-17


countryfog
This hits home, another just-discovered Nazi prison camp guard living here for sixty years in anonymity among us, no one ever suspecting his past and apparently he not remorseful about it. I know of the Black and Tans but embarrassed to admit little of the real history. I'm going to remedy that.
2013-06-16



Well Ken this means the world to me cos as you know I am irish to my very core and fiercely proud of it!
So thank you for sharing this:)
2013-06-16


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
I echo Jims sentiments, Ken. The Black and Tans haved lived in infamyand always did for all they had done. Sometimes we forget that kindly old men are merely tired old sadistic licensed killers. What I find particularily disturbing is your reporting that he had no apparent remorse.

Keep writing like this Ken. We all need the perspective you bring.
2013-06-16



Ken, this is deep and troubling, heartfelt—eloquently, touchingly, honestly written.
2013-06-16