May 8th 1945

Cherry

By Coolhermit

Sat, 19 Sep 2020
  • 330 reads
2 comments
 

May 8th 1945

 
the nation filled the streets
waving flags in celebration -
at last the bloody war was won
 
brass bands belted God Save The King,
while behind bushes and 
under bandstands, 
bobbing heads made babies
 
silent in the celebrant flood
a scattering of mothers stands
scanning faces
 
hoping beyond hope
their Johnnie or Reggie, Arthur or Henry
might step through the crowd
rush into their arms and promise
never to go to war again
 
these wives and mothers wear a uniform,
headscarf, thick stockings, floral apron,
arms folded, eyes squinting, faces lined
with disappointment - waiting
 
the crowds melt home
the women stand
the next day, the next
and the next after that
 
at corners, bus stops, railway stations
unmoving… watching…
waiting … watching
             ****
three thousand days later
 
crowds fill the streets again,
singing the new anthem
sucking Fisherman’s Friends
 
waving cheap cotton flags
celebrating the crowning
of a brand new queen
 
and the remnant regiment of mothers -
living war memorials,
fewer now, older now
stand silent sentry, scanning faces
 
still hoping beyond hope
their Johnnie or Reggie, Arthur or Henry
might step through the crowd
rush into their arms and promise
never to go to war again
           ****
thirty years later
I peer through my blinds
hoping to see her familiar walk
 
and we’ll hug, cry a little,
smile and kiss it better, all
‘forgive and forget’
 
I practice what I’ll say to her,
‘I’m thinking of you…
yes, yes, I do love you,’
but the phone stays mute
 
I hover between blinds and phone,
skewered by hope while
knowing it's over
 
given time my heart will mend
she will wither in memory
I’ll find another to love me
 
unlike that regiment 
of street corner sentries
who died hoping to greet
their sons and their lovers.
Certificate 12
Poem
Love

Comments

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

The picture of the 'band of bereaved war women' is telling, especially moving on through the years.

You have recurring themes in your compositions of regret for relationship breakdowns (hiraeth?), longing, awareness of the naivety of youth in handling love and irritation long-term, working out problems with a determination to overcome and accept the weaknesses of partner and self?

Rhiannon

 

 

Submitted by Coolhermit on

There comes a time when the bitter-sweet of life is all that remains. I hope I tap into universal empathies. Young work is full of hopes and aspirations - but the achievements/successes of this world are ephemeral.

In time everything ebs away and we are left with fragments (of memories) shored against our ruin (Wasteland)  -  mine are not particulary happy ones but I look to a better place. And, hopefully find a brightness within the disappointments.

When I set out to try to write poetry I decided to be (brutally) honest about my feelings, history and emotions - too many writers shy from self-exposure and  hide behind flippancy out of embarrassment. I know people who crack jokes constantly to give a sense of jollity but I've seen the desperation in their eyes.

I do not mention my actual family life nor my having to divorce as that would compromise the family's privacy - and of course all names of real or imagined partners are altered to maintain anonymity.

Thanks for your comments - much appreciated

Rick

The women of my poem were common in the East End after the war. I wanted in this one to compare their constancy with the fickleness of modern relationships.