The Poacher (in Blank Verse)

This subject has been treated as a short story and as narrative verse: now, for the sake of experiment, Here it is in blank verse, and I hope with the picture and its credits. Please comment on the 'trilogy' and don't pull any punches - I'm a big lad!

 Fidelity  (1869),   Briton Riviere 1849 - 1920, Lady Lever Art Gallery, Wirral.

 Double click on picture to enlarge.

They had given him a chair.

Strange kindness after tearing his arm out of joint.

And why leave him his dog?

His beaten mind and battered body questioned.

What's next for us, eh Lad?

'Let him stew, they had said'. 

The constable would have let him go, he knew,

The 'gamie' was another thing.

Vindictive b*****d!

God, he'd only wanted a rabbit or two

For the pot.

Behind lowering lids and covering hand,

Always the pallid face,

The hungry look

Of his Lass.

Y'know, don't ye, Lad?

It's in y'r eyes. Good Lad, aye, good Lad.

It'd be good to get these boots 'n' gaiters off,

But even if I could, floor's too cold.

Happen I'm for another birchin'.

Last time, I'd a back like a skinned rabbit.

I wonder what yon mon'll be on up at th'all tonight.

Not gleanin's an' blackberries like my *lass.

Or rabbit!

God help her, an' the one she carries.

He tried to lift the pot to his lips, but with one arm,

He couldn't.

Tipping it, he put some on the floor for the dog.

Lad never moved;

Just warmed the faded cords where his dewlap lay.

The wall recorded other men's loves,

'Mary'. I wonder who she was,

And that once,

He could have been hanged for stealing a sheep.

God! Times must've bin hard then.

But he'd only been after a few rabbits.

Well, maybe there's bin the odd pheasant, but

Last time I touched me forelock t'the fat sod,

He didn't look hungry.

Still the hand held the bowed head,

The dog gazed adoringly,

The *lass and the child within her wondered,

And went without.

 

 

PS. There is a certain amount of accent and local dialect attempted here – not too much though.  In the North of  England (This is set near the ancient Roman City of Chester), ‘Lass’ is often used as a term of extreme affection for a much-loved wife.  ‘Lad’ for the dog also implies affection but would in no way be regarded as an insult by any woman of the times

 

                       John Berry.  27 January, 2000.

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Give it to me straight! Ouch!!!

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I like it. I found the switch in dialect from bin to been a wee bit difficult but in general, not too obtrusive. But I like Bobby Burns so there you are. (smiling) I love this kind of delivery made from a painting or a picture. I just wrote a fairy-tale from a picture for a contest. The poem is entitled Saving Serenity and it was my interpretation of the picture. I also have another posted here ( a personal favorite) on Vincent Van Gogh's "Wheatfield With Crows", the last painting the Dutch artist ever painted. It is entitled simply The Crows. But I wander. I was thrown back by this phrase, "up at th'all tonight" please tell me what that means. Is it "the hall"? Just curious. A fun and interesting read.