A letter to Tom and Mary

DVerse and Mary have invited us to write an Epistolary piece –http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22718
For The Poet’s Pub – http://dversepoets.com/2013/08/17/poetics-sent-with-a-stamp/
Apologies for the length.

Dear Mary and Tom,

May I pen a letter asking who you were? I know you are my grandparents,but that is sadly all

Grandpa we never met, I have no stories of your life - this I only blame myself
for the questions were never asked - how sad that I did not

So please I ask forgiveness, as I never knew you as a lad
nor the trials you faced in life, witnessing the wars

I know not how you met 'your Mary', or how you sang or even laughed
how regrettable, that all I know of you - are your old photographs

Grandma..
we did meet, but was for the shortest while, a child of eighteen I came to England to see you the first time. You took ill, a stroke struck you and I tended to your body,such an english rose with you hair of silver curls, porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, in floral dress and string of pearls

And I was young and so naive and went 'round countryside and fell in love ..or so I thought, when your death I read by telegraph and I the one too self absorbed - even to attend, this regret, in life I have and I carry it to my grave for I thought of only me, so I ask for absolution - for not honouring you in death

I shall make amends, though I know not where you lay, to pay respect, to show
my love – Australia’s so far away

I cannot lay a flower nor stand with my head bowed.I cannot say "I'm sorry" though I yell it now out loud. Your life, like Tom's I never knew, only now that I have aged - I wish I could have known you more, with remorse, I turn the page

18/08/2013

Non-Fiction – to my Grandparents – I keep still, in silence, in memory of you.

Battle for Home

I stand on reddened soil, battle
complete, the smell of death
fills the air, I
care not for your meagre offering
of white cloth held in muddied hand
tainted by another’s blood

compensation for my loss on this
hallowed soil, a surrender given
to late to save the ones I loved
who rode into your storm
of pistols and catapults that cast
the stones of fire

with hearts racing, valiantly we
forged, my brother along side I
and in my fogginess of contest; the
sky drew dark through shadowed eyes
as brown soil mixed with blood
of those that will not see
another day

I step between the dead who lie
with mounts beneath them
men whose hearts will beat
no more, innocent, courageous
fighting for home they fell
with one last breath upon the ground
bring daylight through my tears
so I may see what we fought for
here, amongst the trees

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Alastair’s Photo Challenge 150 words or less – Sorry I am 2 words over at 152. Please join us.

Alastair’s Photo Fiction

Souls of the night

the call of distant pipes listen
can you hear the mandolin gentle strum
its melody drifting to the fire, we watch
as moon light splinters the clouds
and bounces onto golden flames

love circled by young hearts
the gentle rustling of leaves on boughs
natures perfume drifts as darkness
enfolds the woods, this summers eve
shadowing the castle walls 

a raven calls as black as night, wings in flight
venturing across the skies, you play to me
sparks soar merging with the fire-flies
my heart softened by the sound
by earth itself

trembling hands we reach, as shooting stars
take their journey, lowered head I blush
for love that is divine, untarnished
gathered skirts, I clasp your hand in mine
giving of our love, the only sounds I hear
is your love for me, the pipes and mandolin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Written whilst listening to Loreena

ello ello ello what have we ‘ere then?

I am unearthed
brought to air
from underground
broken of bone
remnants of my
former self
1452 the year I squalled
passed to mid-wife
swaddled tight
my life footsteps indeed
not known
nor my precarious plight
yet I was born to be King
ruled with tyranny
murdering callous
and viciously
1485 I died
was lain to rest
in dampness soil
and dark
and who would
‘ev imagine
I’d be exhumed
from
a car park

Boohaha…

Richard III is thought to have been buried at the Franciscan friary of Grey Friars in Leicester, but the church was demolished in the 1530s and its location had been lost until now. Richard’s skull has now been found 100 yards from Leicester.

And on that note I bit you all adieu….good-night.

Run away with me

On the bridge is where
I shall meet thee
I shall steel a kiss far
away from peering eyes
amongst fern and branches low
join me there

on mossy stone that’s where
I shall hold thee
express my love in hope
of capturing your heart
I have waited for so long
join me there

surrounded by the forest green
I shall say I love thee
and I will bare my soul
and ask you to be mine to run away
with me leave the life you lead behind
join me there

listening to the music of the water
I shall ask thee to wed me
holding your hand in mine I shall
whisper to you of my undying love 
I pray your answer be yes
join me there

 

 

This photo was taken on a trip to England (taken through a bus window – so lacking clarity) – my fascination for old bridges was the prompt.

Battling Alone

This one is just me…listening to music – no form or structure.

Betrayed she was
her heart
twas that of gold
nev’r a fine lass would you find
on dis eart’
he shamed her that he did
he ran off wid another
left a broken soul

she was left alone
to suffer
to plough the soil
to tend to crops
alone in dis world

a youngen she then bore
brought it life without a da
worked as cleaner
for coin to feed the poor
wee lad, hardship she
faced, no ‘elp from anyone
old before her time she is
battlin’ and providin’
for the little one
battlin’ the best she can

if only I could give her more….

This is the Lady – My Mum

Mum

I have written about my Pop but not Mum…so it’s her turn tonight.

This is the English Rose at my daughters Wedding 3 years ago.

This is the lady who says now she’s not beautiful & that growing old means people “look at you as though you are stupid or they don’t understand you, or have patience for you”.

This is the lady who gets frustrated by not being able to do what she did in her younger years.

This is the lady who suffered a fall a couple of years ago and now has difficulty walking (one of my little penguins).

BUT  This is the lady that brought me into this world.

This is the lady who held my hand to cross the roads.

This is the lady that looked after my children, so I could work.

This is the lady that took care of me when I was sick, or had a bad back & couldn’t tend to my daughter.

This is the lady who has supported me and my family with her unconditional love & affection.

This is the lady whom I have laughed with and shared tears with.

This is the lady that I have argued with & fought with.

This is lady who can say a sharp word or two to me if she feels the need.

This is the lady who has shared so much love for other people.

This is the lady that has such a good and giving soul.

This is the lady I look up to & admire for her strength & her courage to leave her home of England and come to Australia for a better life, knowing that breaking away from her parents was the hardest thing she could do.

This is the lady who has shown so much commitment and unquestionable love to my father.

This is the woman that lays Pops clothes on the bed of what he is to wear every day and continues to do so, because she thinks he can’t colour coordinate (though everything is beige) 🙂

This is the lady who bares no grudges towards anybody.

This is a lady who was told she should start her own cake business as she is a brilliant cook.

This is a lady who held ‘simple’ dinner parties for 20 people without blinking an eye.

This is the lady that was a brilliant hostess.

This is a lady that went back to work, standing on a cold concrete factory floor to work on a production line so that she could save some extra money to take my brother to England for a visit to see his Grandparents.

This is the lady that will have glassy eyes when helping Pop up from his chair.

This is the lady who lost her youngest son eight years ago and bares the grief silently within her heart.

This is the lady who has been a loving & giving person not only to myself but to her grandchildren.

This is a lady with so much pride & strength that sometimes I think she forgets that she has any.

This is a lady that looks at us with love as only mothers can.

…Yes we may have ‘words’ now and then…we are Mother & Daughter.

…Yes we may not often see eye to eye on things.

…Yes we are both different ..but in so many ways so alike .

…Yes you have grown older..but I have too.

…Yes I am proud of you, admire you, value you, adore you.

… Yes but most of all I AM THANKFUL that you are my MUM & I treasure now more than ever having you with me still..

So do not think for one moment that you aren’t beautiful because my darling English Rose YOU ARE NOW and always will be to me…

I LOVE YOU

xxxxxxxxx

Taking The Time

I am elated, today I finished taking a video of my father giving me his life story from his early childhood up to when he came to Australia from Czechoslavakia.  He arrived here in 1951. Speaking in English with his Czech lilt and sometimes (but not often) pausing to remember details, he spoke over two sessions (over 2 days) the total being 4.5 hours.

We did have a break today in which I took them out to lunch at a nearby Cafe and we took a very slow and gentle walk along the strip of shops afterwards in the brilliant sunshine. Mum held dads hand I held his as the three of us ambled our way along the pavement. To see my parents now and remember them being able to walk in a brisk and sprightly manner made me a little downcast. Fortunately they are trying to keep their humour up by saying, “Don’t ever get old girl it’s a bugger”. To which I can only laugh my reply  “I’m on my way Pop”.

When I brought them back home, it was mums turn to tell me of her life in England, Rochdale where she grew up, she was quite panic-stricken before hand saying she had nothing she could say, or wouldn’t be able to remember, but it was magical to start the video rolling and to listen to her suddenly remembering her past.

This is a moment in history that I can hand down. My children’s children and theirs will be able to see them, hear them and listen to their life stories. I am so pleased I took the time and for them to agree. As this is my keepsake of them and for generations of our family to come.

Conclusion: If you can take the time to do this – please do, I am sure you will not regret it.

 

 

 

Capturing History

Tonight I had my parents over for dinner.

Mum is 83 dad is 85 years young.

The dinner was thoroughly enjoyed, but the best part of the evening was the beginning of history in the making.

I had decided to video them talking about their child-hood, and their lives before coming to Australia.

Dad escaped from (Czechoslavakia) as it was known then during the war. Though being captured a few times, held at gun point, almost shot by an SS guard, and endured and saw things that no one should have to in their life time, he managed to escape to England where he met my mother.

Dad spoke for an hour sometimes wavering in his thoughts and his memory and  next weekend we will continue his amazing journey before mum then talks about her life.

I wanted to capture not only their life but their voices and their faces, so that my children will remember them and their children and generations of our family to come.

Sometimes we think of doing these things and then it’s too late. The memory will sadly fade. Their great- great- great grandchildren, will not know them by voice, only by aged and yellow photos. They may hear the stories that will be handed down about what sort of life they led, but this way they will have a visual of who they were.

Our parents are to be loved, cherised and remembered.

Please seize the moments when you can.

**My Memoir – The Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief is now available through Amazon and Lulu (J M Kadane)**

Heart Melt

Yesterday after posting my Blogs, I thought should I pretty up my Blog Site? Maybe a touch of colour here and there, but I didn’t start doing this to have photos of me adorning the pages (god perish the thought) and do I have any other photos that would be of interest to any one else apart from myself, my friends or family. The answer would be probably not. I started this because I enjoy writing, it’s the words I want to share not much else.

Thoughts out loud: – This morning I bought some DVD’s for my parents my father Joe who just turned 85 who is Czech and my mum 83 years young who was born in England. One of the DVD’s was songs from Vera Lynn and Gracie Fields, all those warm fuzzy songs that got them through the war period and kept there spirits high. For any one who knows any of these songs one “The White Cliffs of Dover” brings a tear to many an eye (similar to Danny Boy). Mum was a trained singer in her youth and bless her can still hold a tune. I watched the DVD with them whilst both of them sung along to the tunes.  Mums voice went croaky (as I had my back to them) I turned around to see that she was crying, then I looked at dad and he was also. “It just brings back so many memories” they both said. I gave them both a hug. I didn’t buy it to make them cry, but I guess their emotions were predictable.

Then the Andrew Sisters came on singing their famous ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’, dad stood up rather wobbly (as he is now) and asked mum to dance. Mum had a bad fall last year and also being 83 has lost her confidence and her ability to do many things now. However up she got and held dads hand although as unsteady on her feet as he was and he swayed back and forth a little with her. Oh for my video recorder at that time, a sweet and special moment that tugged at my heart. I can imagine what went through their minds as they held hands, times gone by, the dance halls they went to not long after meeting perhaps. After so many years of being together they still have each other and the memories..oh so many memories..

**My Memoir The Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief is now available on Amazon and Lulu.(J M Kadane)**