The Man at the Back

I don’t remember my grandfather

He died, before I was born,

And none of the uncles and aunts had kids

So I grew apart, alone,

Then I overheard my father say

It was surely a mystery,

So I pressed him then, I wanted to know

The family history!

 

He muttered something I’d heard before

That sleeping dogs should lie,

I thought, ‘You won’t get away with that,’

And I put the question, ‘Why?’

‘There are things it’s better you didn’t know

For they might affect your head,

And after all, what use is it,

The folk that you seek are dead!’

 

‘Let’s say that I’m more than curious

Of the line that I’m springing from,

I carry their genes and bloodlines

So I’d like to know… I’m wrong?’

He told me all he remembered

So I wrote down what he said,

And then he pulled out the photographs

That were hidden, under his bed.

 

I thought that I’d found a treasure trove

When I saw those dusty prints,

In a box of several hundred

There were sepia tones, and tints,

There were tiny snaps in black and white

There were portraits of a few,

From studios in Blackpool, and

In Edinburgh, too.

 

But they weren’t in any order, and

The backs of some were blank,

I recognised quite a few of them

Like the ones of my Uncle Frank.

But they stared on out from some lost time

That had caught a moment’s light,

Imprinted its shape on negatives

In the tones of black and white.

 

I was only young in those far off days

So I couldn’t see, at first,

It was as the years went tumbling by

I began to fear the worst,

For a shadow had formed on many prints,

A man in the background stood,

He was only faint, like a ghostly taint

But he stayed on the prints for good.

 

The man was old, and he stood far off

So I couldn’t make out his face,

He was there on the beach at Margate,

He was sat on a seat in Thrace,

Wherever the family went, he was

In the background, looking grim,

From 1895 and on

They couldn’t get rid of him.

 

He started to look familiar

In the background of their lives,

He’d stare at my old great-grandfathers

And stalk their long-ago wives.

I asked my father: ‘Who can he be

He appears in every shot,’

He said: ‘I told you to let dogs lie,

Whether you like, or not.’

 

He never wanted to look himself

He said it had come unglued,

‘Nothing should ever begin before

Its time and its date is due!’

I hadn’t wanted to understand,

My father in turn had sighed,

And then one day in a casual way

I heard that my father died.

 

I seemed to age with his passing, then,

My hair was suddenly grey,

The mirror said I was getting old,

And older than old each day.

I took the box with the photo’s in

And hid them under my bed,

‘You’re looking more like your grandfather,’

My wife in her wisdom said.

 

My son grew up and he came one day

To uncover a mystery,

He said he wanted to see the prints

Of his family history.

I said, ‘It’s better you didn’t know,

Some things you’d better not see,’

For now, the mirror had long confirmed

The man at the back was me!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Lena M. P.]

As always you are right on the mark. Great tale. Family trees can be interesting but can also bring mortality to the forefront. When you look at those who have passed and you realize that someday you too will be but a faded memory. I loved the imagery you portrayed and the march through time he took. Well written.

[minisla]

A true story-teller. I sense a connection of family and looks passed down through generations. "Its in the genes".

[Tom]

A fascinating read from start to finish. Time waits for no one as life and folk move accordingly and inevitability pass on and what an intriguing end to the poem, very well thought out !

Excellent poem, an enjoyable read !

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Great ending David! Loved the twist!

[Scott Durham]

wow, compelling and well structured

[TL Boehm]

Wow! a creepy story indeed. But on another level - it has some truth in it. I love to study my family history and have managed to gather pictures of old family members and I "see" myself sometimes in the photos or I see newer family in the faces of the older family.
You are an exceptional story teller. Always

[Baby Ricochet]

Great rhyme and meter and a spooky ending. Loved it!

[LapseOfMind]

Now that is an awesome poem! I thoroughly enjoyed it! Good job sir

[Emerald Seas]

Okay, that story is just a little creepy. Always the fantastic story teller, David. Well done, as usual!

[Stella Armour]

i love tracing family history so this was a delight for me to read..thank you for sharing David..