Inbetweeners

Imagination takes a hike

Who walks this way, displacing stones,

whose shadows shiver through my bones,

along this tow path to the lock?

In my mind's eye, I see them all,

an army strolling, short and tall

of souls departed years before.

They move with steps of quiet grace,

their silken dresses edged in lace,

while suited, booted, collared men

link arms with loves, protecting them.

Young children feed old crusts to ducks,

in breeches, caps and floral prints.

On Sunday morning I can see

as ghosts appear, so crystal clear.

In technicolour they stand out,

alive they are, alive to me.

Regard their faces, watch them laugh

as they meander down that path

which leads to Sonning's Saxon church.

Yet in between the living lurk

who have no time to visit church,

whose presence momentarily,

I can not feel, I do not see.

Reviews

[KeeD]

How cool is this, you made us humans feel like we're the ones from another dimension which is so true. I honestly can't even tell you how many times I've felt like a stranger in this world, what if we truly are the apparitions and like Jhins or Ghosts or whatever names people have for the souls that walk freely the earth are the ones that truly belong. I love how your imagination drives this poem to a point where you make us feel clairvoyant with you, bringing the ghosts you mention to life with your imagery. Once again your poem is able to put out a really nice message. Loved it!

[Chris Shaw]

Hot day, imagination going crazy. Thank you

[barleygirl]

I’m not fully plugged into your meaning & I had to read this twice slowly. After trying on some possibilities, I decided to think of this as a parade of souls no longer in this realm, following along behind to keep me company over the miles & months & eons left to live. The way you detail imagery of those who’ve moved on, it has an old-timey feel, as if reminders of different times & gatherings. Maybe the inbetweeners are those stuck between older more established ones who do the routine without thinking, and the children who are still obedient enuf to follow the examples of their elders. The inbetweeners try to follow the norms but want to leap off the path of restrictive expectations (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Chris Shaw]

Yes Margie, a parade of souls no longer in this realm, that's where my muse took me, on a Sunday morning, clothed in their Edwardian best, walking the tow path to the church. Thank you for
for your thoughts, always so welcome.

Chris

[Paul Bell]

Great write. We never really think about it.
But every day we walk with thousands of souls, maybe millions.
Some touch you for a time, some you never forget.

[Chris Shaw]

Excuse the belated response Paul, somehow I missed your kind review. I thank you and agree with you.

Chris

[Richard🖌]

Monumentally mesmerizing, Dear Chris,
Beautifully flowing and rhymed, with syntax to peek the envy of the most accomplished poetic raconteur, you've creatively brought to life a moment in time that fills a place of misty history with imagination's creative mystery.
Fraught with vivid imagery and moment, your eerily-timbred presence of phantom spirits from days bygone has sank a chill deep to my core.
Your poetic prowess virtually dances upon the page in this splendidly contrived composition, sweeping your readers up into it with you, as though we were there.
V1 L3 brought the distinct thought of paths 'long each side of a canal where tow ropes were attached to boats and barges, being pulled by lines of human towers trudging from lock to lock … quite image-laden and beautifully done, as are so many lines throughout this captivating masterpiece.

You've made a believer of me; I love it, M'Dear … hugs! ⁓ Richard

( I wonder if you've yet read my favorite male onsite poet, David Lewis Paget:
http://www.writerscafe.org/Dawei )

[Chris Shaw]

Dear Richard, on holiday at the moment, but delighted to receive this wonderful review from you on my Inbetweeners poem. I have yet to read
David Lewis Paget, but will make a point of doing so very soon. My very best wishes and a hug for you too.

Chris

[Richard🖌]

Hoping your hols bring you great joy.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Richard, having a great time.

[Richard🖌]

Maybe, we'll soon find the chance to try that Ricalai. ; )

[Richard🖌]

Paget, I know you will love.

[Chris Shaw]

Too much wine for the Ricalai to try just yet :))

[Richard🖌]

Whenever you're ready ('n steady) … LOL!

[Chris Shaw]

Lol hiccup

[emmajoy]

' They move with steps of quiet grace, ~ their silken dresses edged in lace, ~ while suited, booted, collared men ~ link arms with loves, protecting them.'

You really do make history come alive, Chris.. few others write as perfectly - linguistically and academically, as you. There really are places and sight where Past walks at your heels. Perhaps tis the years' long smell of interiors or the mossy ivy scatterings here or there. The way the light splays its rays..

Sonning.. hmn.. does that have a Rhennish tower?

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Em. I think my knowledge of poetry is probably better than architecture, so I may use a bit of poetic licence here and there in my poems. So I bow to anyone with superior knowledge. Thank you. Have just called on one of yours.

Chris

[emmajoy]

You have indeed just called, yet more thanks. x Must look up the Rhenish bit (sp) - will let you know. More importantly was the wonderful desriptions you created in your poem. .

[emmajoy]

The Church of St Mary the Blessed Virgin, also known as St Mary the Virgin Church and St Mary's Church, is the Church of England parish church of Sompting in the Adur district of West Sussex. It stands on a rural lane north of the urban area that now surrounds the village, and retains much 11th- and 12th-century structure. Its most important architectural feature is the Saxon tower topped by a Rhenish helm, a four-sided pyramid-style gabled cap of which this is the only example in England. English Heritage lists the church at Grade I for its architecture and history.

[emmajoy]

Will go now, before dominating your reviews, please feel free to demolish my intrusions!

[Chris Shaw]

Sonning in Berkshire, but I thank you anyway

[emmajoy]

Yes, just looked, forgive, trying to catch up on with eviews, owe so many, Chris. Probably rushing tween here and there.. not entirely focussing. x

[emmajoy]

R - eviews..

[Phill Oz O'fee]

When imagination creates images and poetical interpretations of past times/events the results are often quite beautiful - like your pleasant and enjoyable write. Coincidentally, I do know the church you mention in the write; St Andrew’s (C of E) parish church, central in Sonning village, is close to the River Thames in Berkshire. It’s notable for its stunning monuments and historically its being the successor of an Anglo-Saxon Cathedral! Great poem … :-)

[Chris Shaw]

Good morning Phill. How lovely that you know this church and the area by the Thames. It is most beautiful. Thank you so much. Have a lovely day.

Chris

[emipoemi]

That last line blew me away! Wow! Brilliant in every way imaginable! Love the structure, the progression, the narrative! Amazing!
"Alive they are" would sound better and be more powerful as "alive are they", and I think "loch" not "lock" is what you're going for. But other than that - stupendous! Simply wonderful! Well done!

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you. It is lock in this context. A loch is something entirely different, but I thank you for your review.

[emipoemi]

What lock are we on about, then? Not even the imagination can conjure a "lock" in an open space....please explain....does it relate to the church? (Since you're brilliantly not rhyming that word, perhaps a better one? I for one can't get the image in my mind's eye)

[Chris Shaw]

Look up Sonning Lock, google it and it will tell you. It is boating terminology. A cutting in the river. A loch is like a lake.

[emipoemi]

Ah! Apparently the dictionary has never heard of that definition. For that matter, I'd capitalize it.

[/]

I still debate whether ghosts are real. Maybe we invent them in our brains because one day we too will be in some other place, maybe wanting to return. I enjoyed this spooky poem immensely.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you. I certainly haven't seen any, but there again, I was using my imagination here. Your comments welcome.