She is a very talented young lady Duncs :cool: I loved the "snow creaking" :D
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BEATTIE IS THREE
At the top of the stairs
I ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.
Adrian Mitchell
Job loss, jobless, depression,
Jobs you don't like, but pay the bills,
And finally, a job you want, happens.
A crap year, hopefully, behind me, onwards and upwards.
Persevere and may you all achieve your dreams and aspirations:)
another one from macneice...i like the way he plays with the notion of time as it relates to the self, here i think he is observing how in a moment we can be transported back to different more innocent times..........?
Soap Suds
This brand of soap has the same smell as once in the big
House he visited when he was eight: the walls of the bathroom open
To reveal a lawn where a great yellow ball rolls back through a hoop
To rest at the head of a mallet held in the hands of a child.
And these were the joys of that house: a tower with a telescope;
Two great faded globes, one of the earth, one of the stars;
A stuffed black dog in the hall; a walled garden with bees;
A rabbit warren; a rockery; a vine under glass; the sea.
To which he has now returned. The day of course is fine
And a grown-up voice cries Play! The mallet slowly swings,
Then crack, a great gong booms from the dog-dark hall and the ball
Skims forward through the hoop and then through the next and then
Through hoops where no hoops were and each dissolves in turn
And the grass has grown head-high and an angry voice cries Play!
But the ball is lost and the mallet slipped long since from the hands
Under the running tap that are not the hands of a child.
Louis Macneice