Dancing on Air

Life, Memories, Poetry, Schooldays

#octpowrimo

Salford , 10th October 2018

I don’t remember exactly

When my clumbersome feet

Felt lighter than a feather

Perhaps it was walking across fields of flowers

Or watching the squirrels In the local park,

Rolling around in the mounds of freshly cut grass

Or maybe, it was the taste of strawberries in winter,

Hiding away in a little fruit tartlet

Or at most, the moment at that high school dance

Where the girl I had an eye on gave me half a chance

Moments now scattered in the mind, here and there

Moments I was literally dancing on air

Making my way through Maps

Learning, Life, Outdoor Pursuits, Outdoors, Poetry

#365daysofwriting #Backtoschool

Salford 25th July 2018

If i could go back to school, to master a subject – i reckon it would be Geography i’d do

Not English or History (even though i’ve got an interest in those subjects) – Geography.

You see, even though i’ve made my way through the toughest routefinder map, i still have my doubts how all those lines determine height and depth.  It would interest me no end on how those maps of mine translate to modern day life.

It might also fill an hour (or two) of my day. with some unofficial field trips to the pennines and lake district 🙂

Bag o’ Pear Drops

Growing up, Poetry, Schooldays

#Poetry #Sweets #Confectionary

17th July 2018

I

The container comes down

from the confectioners shelf and

each little drop of sweetness

spills into the bowl

II

Red and Yellow fancies

dusted with icing sugar

and as you open the bag

a blast of pear

III

Each Individually formed

rocky for a short while

but later smooth on the tongue

but watch for the sharp bits

IV

Thud of each drop

hitting the scale

rattle and then crunch

of the halves coming away

V

Sweet and Sour Sensations

tripping off the tongue

taking you back

to schoolday memories

Rebel

Growing up, Poetry, Schooldays

Salford 10th May 2018

Ariel-Rebel-Wallpapers

Rebel

You were always the one in school

that caused a scene

causing young heads to turn

at your juvenile antics

Wearing the Uniform

the way you wanted

raising an eye

of the deputy head

They called you “Cool”

and your pals all circled

as school rules fell

and school skirts rose

The defiant red haired streak

got you noticed

by the more butch kids

in the school playground

But at the end of the day

the lad that you wanted

never looked back

leaving you – disappointed

Tale of a Pencil Case

Childhood, Memories, Schooldays

Salford 18th March 2018

Anyone who’s read the “First Day at School” piece on here, will know how in my first year at High school – i ended up in Needlework for form.

Well, during the school week that year – as well as your regular stuff from English and Maths, Geography, History and all….we had craft lessons and this took us from Woodwork to Pottery.

But before we could get into the really messy stuff.  We had to do the basics

and this meant making a pencil case from scratch

They were all standard size – and made from one standard tartan fabric,

the inner pocket – we could choose a colour from a selection and attached it to the tartan before creating the cases over all shape

I still have memories of lads in their craft aprons yelling out after being stabbed by a stray pin.   For me, my Achilles heel was getting the thread in the needle

Once attached, we were shown how to operate the sewing machine

As i put my foot to the pedal – i watched as the fabric slowly formed into the case

Then the decorations and fixings went on – biased binding, riff-raff braid in all colours and velcro and pop-studs

It took a few sessions to master, but when i finished i’d created something i’d be proud to take into the rest of class with

Strut

Accidents, Poetry, Schooldays

Strut

Looking down the Trafford Road

the kid has got some moves

walking as he listens to his i pod

and the latest grooves

 

Weaving tween the old un’s

he laughs and hums his dunes

Strutting like a cockerel

as he listens to his tunes

 

Confidence is Booming

he’s got the ladies eye

Only to catch a loose paving stone

and into a signage pole – he’ll fly

Nursery Crime

Learning, Schooldays, writing

Rhyme

Sat in class with pen in hand

English teachers lesson planned

write us a poem, without any rhyme

you have a few days – there’s plenty of time

 

So inspiration i did seek

going through books for a week

and every page would set up the same

with two words a rhyming – without any blame

 

Sing a Song of Sixpence, Jack and Jill

Humpty Dumpty, all from the quill

of a master writer, who’d mastered his art

and educated fellows – would tear it apart

 

I did my best – and restored a piece

giving the rhymes their release

but end of the day – i’d return to that book

as i liked the original way that they looked

Disappointment

Acrostic, Inspiration, Learning, Life, Schooldays

Disappointment

Dejection

in the content of the

students envelope

as predicted grades vs

positive results hadn’t panned out as they thought

on the whole though – they didn’t fail

If they head for the the sixth-form – they’ll probably pass

Next time.  dreams of higher things will have to wait

Till next time

Maybe a new opportunity will show itself

Even a subject they really wanted to take – and the

New opportunity might provide avenues

That they never thought of studying.

 

Recite

Growing up, Learning, Life, Memories, Schooldays

Recite

Inky, enters the TARDIS again….and lands in Our Lady of Mount Carmel RC High…third year english..and the origins of his poetry

I recall old wooden benches – the ones with (ironically) the old inkwell’s set into the base.

Mountains of Books handed down from pupil to pupil and placed strategically on what i’d now call the Northwest corner of the table

The teacher would begin – and then stopping at a paragraph – he’d pick a pupil at random, going around the classroom

Young minds caught on tenterhooks as the class ventured their way through the story.

On one or two occasions – the book matter changed – the hardback stories stayed where they were – to be returned to on another occasion – and the brightly coloured books were passed from pupil to pupil

The Adventures of Isobel….The Nonsense poems of Ogden Nash….pieces from “Local” poets….Roger McGough, Brian Patten (The regional difference hadn’t hit me in my formative years), not forgetting “The classics”, Kipling, stephenson and all.

And there would even be the time where an adolescent squeaky voice – changing by the day with puberty would have to deliver one or two pieces

“Isobel met an enormous bear….Isobel, Isobel, didn’t care”

(Ogden Nash – The Adventures of Isobel)

I’d write away in my exercise books with glee guided by the work of these poets

it’s something thats stuck with me ever since.