Saturday, 15 April 2017
Poetry 2017 / 061
our prompt for the day: Because we’re halfway through NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that reflects on the nature of being in the middle of something. The poem could be about being on a journey and stopping for a break, or the gap between something half-done and all-done. Half a loaf is supposedly better than none, but what’s the difference between half of a very large loaf and all of a very small one? Let your mind wander into the middle distance, betwixt the beginning of things and the end. Hopefully, you will find some poetry there!
Reginald Claude 1928 - 1996
Clearing out the house, where thirty years
had left their mark in dust and memories,
left us with the last vestiges of your presence.
Why did you never get rid of Mum's clothes?
Would that have been such an offence
against her memory? Or were you saving them
for us? Smelling her perfume, her face powder
on the collar of her fake fur coat brought
unexpected tears in the middle of house clearance.
She gave me your mug – the one that held a pint
of stiff black tea though I'd never use it.
You gave me the love of tea but not the capacity
to drink it all day. Your ashtray, too; the one I'd
given you for your birthday. I don't even remember
how old you were when you died. The tin of farthings
at the bottom of your wardrobe, your de-mob suit,
a box of out of date condoms, bought when Mum
was still alive. I had little use for memorabilia,
still don't now, thought it's taken fifty years
to cull my need to hoard the past like ripples
on an oyster shell with you, the pearl in the middle.