Grrrrr!

Here is Part 2 of my childhood poem, linked to the ending of Part 1 which was about talking in bed. The stuffed bear was a vivid memory and I’ve only just worked out why. My intention is to alternate free verse with more formal sections but maybe the contrast between them is too sudden and jars somewhat. I don’t intend posting more extracts for a while so would appreciate any thoughts and suggestions so far…

Image result for fur

little birds calling   let them sing
airy nothings          float in the wind
waves on the seashore  play in the sand
castles tumble         sweep of my hand
word in your shell-liketickles my ears
shush now shush        sounds of the seas
                
                adrift
               sh sh sh
                ashore
         
         that ebb       and flow
           of nights and days
             ofdaysandnights
               
               wakesleep
               sleepwake
               wakeslip
               sleepwalk
        
         that rhythm rocked you
              into trance
           you knew the steps
                but not
               the dance 

You knew the silky hot embrace of fur
From grandma's mothball hugs. How fearful then
That fusty pelt as big as forty grandmas
Sewn together, topped with claws and teeth -
A frozen tableau, savage snarl on pause
And paws forever raised about to strike!
You'd sucked two notions up like mother's milk
That every bear was fierce and out to kill
And hunters only shot in self-defence,
For truth was simply what it seemed to be.
You saw a monster make his final charge
And never guessed the taxidermist's craft
Behind the pose, that lifted lifeless lips
In endless snarl and stretched dead limbs upon
The rack so you could thrill and tremble there.
At four years old you never would have dreamed
Of country houses stuffed with trophy kills
Where pocket heroes boast dominion
And long-range high-velocity success
With simply nothing ever left to chance.

You knew the steps but couldn't read the dance.
Advertisements

12 thoughts on “Grrrrr!

  1. I can see where a bear rug would be scary to a four-year, Dave. Even more so a fully stuffed bear. I’ve seen some that would scare the heck out of me on a dark night. A long ways from a huggable Pooh. I’ve never understood the passion for stuffing animals and filling a house with trophies. I think you caught a child’s perspective well in your poem. –Curt

    1. Appreciate the support, Curt. It’s fun making something new out of old memories, much as you have been doing on the excellent series of posts on your epic bike ride across the States which are well worth checking out.

  2. I really like the variety. It works well. And the perspective from the innocent eyes of the child to the adult perspective of the reality.
    It’s coming together nicely.

  3. So beautifully penned, the enumeration has a powerful effect when it comes to create the idea of evocative remembrances!…
    Loved these verses, in particular:
    “At four years old you never would have dreamed
    Of country houses stuffed with trophy kills
    Where pocket heroes boast dominion
    And long-range high-velocity success
    With simply nothing ever left to chance”.
    Thanks for sharing!… sending best wishes. Aquileana 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s