Escape ~ Life ~ Love ~ (Series – Part 3)

UK abandoned army camp north Yorkshire in clay mines you worked
Travelled to Rochdale on advice, permit granted to work in textiles
Tiresome, carrying three hundred pound boxes of heavy bobbins
Dress tie and holding leather gloves, you approached the girls and asked to dance
In ex Army style, you clicked heels and bowed,three times you chose just one girl
You a foreigner, had to wait outside the hall on her twenty-first
Parents not accustomed to your broken English ~ you were persistent
Hearts were won, as the War, hearts remained strong, War a distant memory
Immigrated to Aussie shores, past left behind ~ a new life was found

Dad in the Middle

**********

Gay has us working on American Sentences over at http://dversepoets.com – something I had not heard of.
I have been doing a Series of verse for my Pop’s life, this is the Final in the Series (for now) so I thought I would try it in the 17 syllable style of American Sentences.
Hopefully it is okay, I realise it is not beat poetry.

Signed the Fledging Flapping Wing Poet from Down Under

Monday to Thursday for anyone who is interested in babble

Good evening everyone out there in Blog WP land.

How are we all this evening, morning, afternoon?

It's so hard to keep track of times and days for that matter.

This is just a rambling blog post from moi.

Just because I can :-)   Ahh the freedom of speech isn't it grand ~ oops no poetry this evening.

Updates on my week - you ready? Comfy? Drink in hand be it coffee, wine or beer? Perhaps some cheese on crackers to go with that?

• Started the juice diet for 4 days straight I drank nothing but squeezed out fruit and vegetables (my hat goes off to all you vegetarians out there by the way). Yesterday I was in a complete daze, had no idea where the day actually went, proceeding into the supermarket to top up on fruit and veg and other things. Yes, I forgot the other things - my brain was frozen in a sludge state.
• Tonight yee ha I had a meal, I never knew how much I enjoyed the physical art of chewing! I ate some calamari and salad. Treadmill in the morning, so all will be good Weird how I felt guilty for actually eating after 4 days though.
• No wine consumed for 4 days (I know,  how the hell did I do that) tonight I am shouting myself to a scotch with Pepsi Max (it is soooooo good) yes the treadmill will be a definite in the morning.
• Went out twice with Pop on his scooter ~ hmm little concerned as he still doesn't look left and right before crossing the road and I think he feels as if he is still in a car to protect him a little. More practice required, more of me running or walking very fast at his side.
• Attended a funeral on Tuesday (for learning Celebrant purposes) I did not know the deceased. 20 family members. Song being played for reflection time - wrong song. Try again - wrong song. I sat in the back row cringing, oh and taking notes.  The Celebrant though (as she told me afterwards) "It's best to stay calm when things go wrong, so the family remains calm".  Tell me if I'm wrong readers (this way I will know if you have actually read this far ) her reaction after the song not being played twice was "Right we will move onto the next part of the ceremony".  What the??? No apology for technical difficulties now we will move on??? Nothing? The service went for 20 minutes (family's instructions) but to me way too quick, no time to absorb what was happening, no speakers apart from the Celebrant. The music that the family chose for the recession (the walking out of the service) was a classical piece interspersed with quite 'bubbly' violin… not my choice AT ALL. This had to be played by the FD (that's funeral director lingo) who held a portable CD player at the back of the room. All went well till his/their recording jumped, hopped and skipped and crackled towards the end. I was mortified readers mortified! I shall do better (if I ever get a gig…(no gig isn't the right terminology is it?)
• Lastly, I want to thank all the people that commented on My Gate is Open piece for DVerse - I am being guided and supported most admirably and for that I thank you one and all.

Okay that's it, hope I haven't bored anyone, thought I'd do it all in one blog (I so hate that word) post ~ thanks for listening..I mean reading.

Moi

xx

I shall tend to your feet Pop

The other week-end I gave my Pop (dad) a pedicure. At almost 86, he has trouble bending down to tend to his feet.

I slowly removed his sandals and sat beside him on a small stool. He was worried that I would hurt my back by sitting this way….

Yours nails I cut carefully
and removed old skin
then massaged cream gently
along each of your feet

You thanked me for what you called a
‘laborious task’, to me it gave
me joy
to help see to the feet of my
father who was once a
little boy

As I massaged the cream
into your skin
I thought of where
your feet had been

These feet that were bare and told to stand in snow in a European Winter.
These feet that walked to the timber pile to chop wood for your step – father, the fire you were not allowed to be warmed by.

These feet that had to walk up the staircase where you were told to eat your meal, alone,  whilst the rest of the family ate downstairs in comfort at the table.

These feet that gave you the strength to escape from Czechoslavakia during the War, to cross mountains, hide on trains, trudge through forests, swim through rivers and nearly have your life ended twice by a gun held at you by the KGB.

These feet that brought you to Australia, to start a new life, to build a house for a family that you knew you would one day have, though you had no carpentry skills.

These feet that ran and played shuttlecock with us, the times that we went camping.

These feet that walked next to me on the day that I was wed.

These feet now older
that hold your struggling
legs and body
these feet are not a ‘laborious chore’
to me, my father

These feet have travelled many miles
through great adversity
saw you start a business
accomplish many things
I shall tend to your feet

as I love you
I shall tend again, again
and again

Below are two other posts, that I wrote last year about this amazing man I know as Pop, please click if you would like to read. https://ramblingsfromamum.wordpress.com/2012/10/07/pop-my-dad-i-love-you/

https://ramblingsfromamum.wordpress.com/2012/09/13/my-dad-affectionately-pop/ ‎

Rounding off the weekend with some more old photos

Can any words describe the feelings that I have when I see this photo? This would have to be my favourite. My Pop when he was but a baby boy.

I adore this photo, to others who see it, it’s just another photo from ramblings or (‘mumsy’ as I am now affectionately known.) I just want to pick him up and give him the biggest cuddle and tell him it will all be alright.

To me it’s a picture of a sad little boy in the war years whose parents didn’t want him, who was given away to others to be looked after, but who treated him cruelly. A young little boy who looks so lost.

A young boy whose pockets where sewn up so he couldn’t keep warm in the bitterly cold months of a European Winter. A young innocent boy who was made to sit at the top of the stairs whilst the ‘other family – his stepmother being one’ sat and ate at the table with the rest of the family downstairs.

A boy who was encouraged at school because he had such a brilliant mind and when the Principal approached his family to urge that they send him to University, they didn’t want to waste their money.

My favourite photo because though there is sadness in his face, later on in his life he fought adversities and became a happy. caring man and a loving devoted father.

Now can you see any likeness? Perhaps the baby round cheeks..or perhaps the ears?

I just wish that my Pop was able to smile in his photo as I did…..

Pop **my dad** I love you

Please don’t tell mum you think that you’re dying – Mum told me today that’s what you said.

I don’t want to hear those words 

Don’t say you think your life’s at an end – those words cut to deep.

I watch you slowly find your balance when you stand & that a short walk makes you weary – I see the strength you once had is gone & I see the frustration in your eyes because of it.  I see the tremors in your hands which I know is hard for you to understand.

But I don’t want to hear those words

I see the changes in you, I see that my dad has grown older – don’t make me cry by saying what you did today.  I love my nick-name Ginger though I don’t know why I have it  – I love the bond we have which has grown stronger throughout the years.

But I don’t want to hear those words

I look at you & think of all our laughter & our tears – the advice you have imparted – the guidance that you have given – I’m your daughter “your girl” & I’m here for you – you know that…right? – I know this can’t be easy for you – growing old never is & I wish I could do more.

But I don’t want to hear those words

I love & cherish you so much & it hurts me to know those words were spoken – it frightens me of what will eventually come – but that time is not yet with us – so I can only ask that you try not to be disheartened or make apologies for your age,  for I will be your support,  be it just my hand to hold you steady or a hug to show how much I care.

But please I don’t want to hear those words

**Ginger**   xxxxx