Buried treasure

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I’ve had a joyful time lately, tidying out lots of things, and plenty have gone to the charity shop.  But it has also been delightful to come across creative pieces that I made earlier!  I found this portrait of my lovely Dad that I drew many years ago.  I’m so glad I unearthed it.  Not only does it remind me of him, but it nudges me into thinking that it’s high time I picked up some pencils again!  I also came across this humorous poem that I wrote when on a train journey up to London for a meeting.  I can’t remember what the meeting was about – and it didn’t inspire any poems (!), but the train journey did:

 

The Nose-Picker, having dug and found
his treasure,
alights.
- Tissues, sir, tissues!
The Ear-Pieces taps and wiggles
and faintly smiles at the noise
in his head.
The Coffee-Drinker smells aromatic,
and foamy froth outlines his upper lip.
- Take care not to spill it, sir!
The Earrings has her head buried 
in a book, caught
in other worlds - sunny or
cold, in the midst of passion
or espionage or adventure.
And the school child - prematurely
in shirt and tie,
reads the paper while riding the train.
Jickety can, jickety can
went the childhood poem,
but ours smooths its way
along, with a lulling
ba boom, ba boom,
ba ba boom, ba ba boom,
hissing to a stop.
Screeching whistles,
high-pitched stabbing
closes the door,
gathering speed, gathering pitch,
unbearable crescendo, til -
relief,
descent to a stop.
Crowded inwards, but private
thoughts, 
and noiseless carriage
save the crinkling
of turning paper.

Stuff in some more;
not yet satiated;
nearly, not quite.

Disgorge your contents -
this teeming mass of life.

The day has begun.

 

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4 thoughts on “Buried treasure

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