Posted in Memories, Nostalgia, Poetry, Witterings

A little bit of Nostalgia…

As a child I only had the luxury of one surviving Grand Parent…and she was quite old too. But I do remember visiting her at her home in Aston on a Sunday afternoon, which was one of the old fashioned ‘back to back’ terraced houses near to Villa Cross.

While sorting through some old photos I found a picture of my parents wedding and they were standing outside Grandma’s house…so i wrote this:-

There’s only four rooms in my Grandmothers house

Two up and two down, life is hard.

No heating or plumbing, bare floorboards frayed rugs,

And the toilet’s out back in the yard.

Now the sitting rooms posh, but no one’s allowed

To sit on the couch to sip tea

It’s covered with sheets and the fires never lit

You can look but don’t touch, leave it be.

There’s a tatty old radio plays crackly songs

It’s the only indulgence she’s got

Cause she aye got a telly nor radiogram

Sings along as she warms up the pot.

There’s a rusty old tin bath she keeps out the back,

Once a week it gets dragged through the door.

Fills it up in the parlour from the kettle she’s boiled

Quickly bathes while it leaks on the floor.

There’s a slight musty smell but it’s pristine and clean,

The front step gets a scrub every day.

With a duster that’s surgically fixed to her hand

The dirt’s quickly shifted away.

My Grandmothers poor as her home will attest

No luxuries has she to boast

But the smile on her face as she opens the door

Shows she’s happy, her family to host.

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Posted in Poetry, Witterings

Something Old…

I thought I might share a little of my poetry…this one was originally included in Penguins & Panamas and was inspired by a moment that I experience on an all too regular basis. It’s called ‘At the Top of the Stairs’.

At the top of the stairs I stand wondering,

Hands on hips, then a scratch of the head,

Attempting to recall a memory

That all of a sudden is dead.

I’m trying to gain inspiration

Scanning each bedroom door with a sigh,

Whatever it was lured me up here

Has left me confused, high and dry!

Was it something I wanted to look for?

Or a task that I needed to do?

So I pause for a second to ponder,

No, I don’t have to go to the loo.

There’s no light at the end of this tunnel,

And it won’t be alright on the night.

At the top of the stairs just frustration,

With the chance of remembering, slight.

But now a dilemma has started,

To remain, or give up and go down,

If somebody else sent me up here

That’ll make me appear such a clown.

At the top of the stairs I’m still standing.

Hands on hips, with a memory that flew,

I was sure it was really important,

But now that I’m here…not a clue.

© Jamie Gray 2013 – 2019