Ian Bowen


Ordinary Salt - Poem by Ian Bowen

I’m so glad
looking back,
that I never came
from a rich family….

for we managed,
survived,
became
street wise,
us kids
of ordinary salt.

My simple school
never administered
pressure
It’s red bricks
never bothered,
never thought
it worthwhile,
to remember the faces
that simply
arrived one day
in short trousers
and left in long.

Academia
always sat
in the back row
in class,
chewing gum,
not paying attention.

But Woodwork,
now that was a different
matter, a trade….

where I would
be needed at home
in a time
of a future war,
reserved occupation
they said.

But those
poor little
rich boys
blew whistles
and died
in karki trenches….

couldn’t have built
a wardrobe
if they tried.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about Ordinary Salt by Ian Bowen

  • (2/6/2010 8:13:00 AM)


    My father could build yr wardrobe faultless and unmatched, mine would be prefab, done in the shortest time. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Saturday, February 6, 2010

Poem Edited: Monday, February 8, 2010


[Report Error]