When we were younger
Our feet danced
To the beat of the factories
On every street,
Metal bins rattled
Voices roared
As our rain-heavy leather ball
Slapped on the wall,
And we watched our dads
As hooters blew
Stride from the heat to the corner pub
And the pull of beer,
It was always enough
To halt our game
And wonder at the marvel of what
Lay ahead for us,
As the words of our mothers
Rang in our ears
And we knew that all too soon our games
Would be lost for good,
And that the storm ahead
Was rising still
Our adult lives being forged in the mill
Despite our cries,
Sweets and penny chews
On happy days
We dipped our toes like liquorice sticks
In life’s tart sherbet,
But not for us, not yet
The working hours
Our endless time still filled with joys that
Poverty couldn’t kill,
As on the kitchen table
Our mothers served their fare
The food that always smelled so good yet
Always was the same,
And mornings came so very late
With our fathers gone
And days of school – what did we learn
But how to play the game?
And did we ever really know
What lay beyond
The streets down which we lived our days
And voices never heard?
chrisnelson61 
Chris
a tender look at what was, and at becoming. i love ‘the pull of beer’ and its pun.
This is a fine sharing
Thank You
john
Thanks, John, glad you approve. Hopefully a touch of ‘if I knew then what I know now’ too. I appreciate you leaving your thoughts. All the best to you.
Very evocative Chris. I have just got out of bed (NZ time!) and was thinking that I cannot remember it raining when I was a kid. And then your poem presented itself! Wonderful!
Good morning, Bruce! I’m pleased that this stirred some memories. Over here we’re hoping for a couple more days of rain in NZ to enable England to steal a draw in the test!
!!
Excellent Chris. I can really relate to this.
Good to hear! Thanks, Mark.
I love the way you have used the senses to evoke those memories, Chris. Interesting that childhood recalls were largely evoked by ‘sound’, then there’s a shift to ‘taste and smell’, then, as adulthood takes over, the experiential mind kicks in. I like this shift from experiental and visceral to intellectual – it illustrates that horrendous loss of childhood innocence we all experience…
I am humbled by your lovely response to this piece, Rachael, and am delighted that you picked up on this. I do feel that our perception of the world around us changes in terms of our senses as we age. Perhaps this is because we do try to intellectualise what we experience, but it may just as well be that we mis-remember or place greater emphasis on formative childhood experiences. Either way, as you say, the loss of childhood and innocence is a depressing fact of life.
Enough philosophising! Many thanks and my best to you.
Chris, I enjoyed reading what you’ve captured in verse tremendously, the pure elation of youth and sight unencumbered by realities of the future, before the inevitable arrives, the migration into adulthood, which leaves us longing for, “Days of Nostalgia”. Why is it that childhood memories seem so big, larger than life? They tend to play out in black and white fashion like a dark classic on the big screen. You’re poem is wonderful. May the last bit of the weekend find you well, have a good week ahead.
~ Mia
Such a good question, Mia, and one that we could discuss endlessly: do we fool ourselves into imagining that our pasts were so wonderful, or is memory perhaps a way to help us to try to forget the troubles of adulthood?
Thank you for such a wonderful response which I truly appreciate.
Hope you have a great week too.
There may be two sides to every memory. You’re so welcome, Chris, and thank you.
And, I certainly don’t fool myself into believing that my childhood was all butterflies and rainbows. It wasn’t and yet sometimes I still yearn for its simplicity.
Nicely put. Thank you for reading this.
This is so beautiful and I can relate to a lot of it…. masterful piece!
Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to both read and comment on this and I’m pleased that this meant something to you.
I’m just calling it like I see it 😉 your excellent work deserves credit!
-Wilde
Still, to read your thoughts is very much appreciated.
As does yours!
Thank you!!
Hi again Chris, I would like to ask you something but don’t want to do so in an open forum setting. I couldn’t find a contact page with an email…
Do you have one where I can reach out to you?
Wilde
Hi. I didn’t realise that there even was a ‘contact’ page – I tend not to fiddle too much! Try this: silversoul61@blueyonder.co.uk
I’ll check my inbox.
I sent you an email.
Got it!!
From the cauldron of poverty
the distilling of fine poetry
. . . very well written.
Thank you, I’m pleased that you felt this worked. A touch of poetic exaggeration I must admit to!
Poetic licence.
Younger days, childhood memories, nostalgia and the feelings they remind us of we will never forget. Beautiful post!
Thank you for reading and leaving your thoughts. I am delighted that you liked this.