Warrington, the sixties.
When my children cry boredom
I look back and see
That my childhood was richer
Than theirs seems to be.
We played British Bulldog
And Kick-Can-A-Lurky
Watched The Flower Pot Men
And Pinky And Perky.
We skipped or we hopscotched
Those heady days away,
And scrumping crab apples
Was the crime of the day!
We always made use of
That hot Summer weather,
Etched the names of our sweethearts
In the Tarmac, forever.
We ate sugar butties
(Suffered fillings galore)
Though mostly I smile at
How things were before.
Bonfire night was
A major event,
(Those loose garden gates
Seemed Heaven-sent!)
Now I often think back to
That real Summer weather
And those names written proudly
In the Tarmac forever.
I really like the way you are able to change gears with your poems. I was surprised at the upbeat and carefree feeling of this piece. From what I have read so far, your poetry flows effortlessly between dark and light. Brilliant.
enjoyed the read, sugar butties, makes you wonder what memories the kids of today will have 'we stood on street corners and shouted abuse' not much charm in that smiffy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is my favourite. Though I played British Bulldog too..........It's got a great title