Measles
By Philip Sidney
- 8376 reads
It was an afternoon service.
Mother herded us back along the cow path
pointing out rosehips in the hedgerow
their bitter pithiness sucked moisture from our tender mouths,
nothing like the syrup she gave the babies
to settle tiny tummies and give her respite.
We plucked wizened blackberries like tiny boiled sweets,
Mother frantic at our haphazard popping
of wild fruits and leaves,
our pleasure at the chance tang of sorrel,
death was on her mind.
Measles had taken a clutch of babes,
we’d not known them but sat at the back,
Mother tutting at the discordant singing,
children from school sat in front,
small dips in the wide bank of fat backs
quivering, containing grief,
they turned to glare, put out tongues
pulled the skin beneath their eyes to
show the red, mouthed, ‘jack’,
as though we were trespassing on their sorrow.
We reached the brow of the hill and looked back,
the wooden church nestled in green ferns,
billowing clouds tinted with sunset
like heaven in the paintings,
a shaft of light like a blessing.
I wonder if the babes can see us,
the nuns said they were lucky as
a pure soul goes straight to heaven,
I know mine is already blemished
but suck on a berry all the same.
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Comments
What is it about blackberries
What is it about blackberries that transports so many of us back in time? Every stanza here is an explosion in the mouth of sweet, sticky memory.
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This has a Cider With Rosie
This has a Cider With Rosie type memory feel about it. Innocence and honesty combined, and the fruit makes it juicy to read with a child's eye view and taste of the occasion. It's special, this one.
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Thats a piece of memory, torn
Thats a piece of memory, torn from childhood.Love the ending, it's such a mature answer coming from a child mouth. Great, Philip.
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I've given up smoking again
I've given up smoking again and can only just think but Im as sure as damnit that every word, every turn of phrase, every message wreaks of excellence Pure poetry.
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Wow, this is really evocative
Wow, this is really evocative. It really captures the child's eye view of life's trials. Here, the inability to grasp fully the seriousness or impact of death on others (whilst knowing it is serious), and being able to see it as something that just happens and life goes on.
Really beautiful.
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This reminded me of a book I
This reminded me of a book I had in childhood called 'Druscilla.' The themes of growth and death are steeped in sour blackberries, the child's minds wild as heathens against the religious backdrop. Made me desperate to find the book. A glorious piece.
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HI Helen
HI Helen
Beautiful poem, with such sweet and bitter sweet memories attached. You have such a way with words.
Jean
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Yes, set in NZ Helen. Hard to
Yes, set in NZ Helen. Hard to get hold of now. Hope not out of print.
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love the timelessness of this
love the timelessness of this peice and how you go from painting a picture to giving the facts about the situation at hand...
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Transported back to the
Transported back to the hedgerows of my childhood and my now! Wondeful & so evocative
RD
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