Turning the Clock Back

sometimes i return to that cold

back bedroom on the first floor of

my grandparent's old terraced home

where my legs fidget in bed

as my younger sister dreams

soundly beneath rose candlewick

while i count on my abacus fingers

tube trains as they rattle along

electric rails on top of tall arches

where brickwork is blackened by

smog in the shade of the oldest tree

in a postage stamp garden

flooding the room with false light

shaking the sash windows

twitching the jaundiced net curtains

out of their slumber while i try

my hardest to fall like Alice  down

the rabbit hole into wonderland

and eventually ..........into sleep

Reviews

[Neville]

one does not need an imagination to find oneself transported somehow to that cold back bedroom on the first floor of some old terraced house .. had you not mentioned your grandparents though, I could have sworn it was 24 spencer bridge Rd .. and my younger brother beneath the rose candlewick ..

Neville

[Chris Shaw]

The bedroom may have been cold but the memories couldn't have been warmer. A comfort zone. Thank you Neville. Pleased you could relate and in a happy way.

Chris

[Lydia Shutter]

Such sweet reminiscing. In a grandparents' home we feel safe and it is okay to slide down that rabbit hole. Loved the line, "i count on my abacus fingers"....again, your words are so descriptive. Always a pleasure, Chris. Lydi**

[Chris Shaw]

You are so encouraging with your reviews Lydi**. Thank you so much for stopping by. Always good to see you here.

Chris

[Ranger Kessel]

You have such awesome description in this piece I am jealous. I really liked abacus fingers. So many others. This made me feel good. Thanks for posting it.

[Chris Shaw]

Aw what a knock out review. Thank you so much Ranger.

Chris

[Ranger Kessel]

You're welcome

[Richard Knox]

Chris,
This poem transports me to "that cold back bedroom" in the house "where brickwork is blackened by smog" and I can see the "jaundiced net curtains" illuminated by the light from the train. Your images conjure similar images from my youth, which makes the personal experience you write about all the more tangible and relatable.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you fir the read Richard and your nice comments. You are appreciated. Pleased you could relate to this piece.

Chris

[CD Campbell]

What are memories for, but to give us comfort. The scenery from your mind to mine has created such a wonderful view, it's as if I was there with you as a child. You're pretty good at that. I remember many times how hard it was to go to sleep at my Grandpas house in Tulsa. He was a Shriner and had all these clown paintings and pictures on the wall. It was so creepy for some reason. I'm not one of those people that hates clowns. But in hindsight, now that I'm older, I've realized how proud he was of the work he had done with them. Makes sense he would fill a room with that stuff. Should have slept on the couch in the living room. Haha. Anyway, lovely poem.

[Chris Shaw]

Thanks CD for stopping by and your lovely review. A big thanks too for sharing your Grandpa with me. I have always found clowns creepy too, same as the ventriloquist's dummy. They can freak me out. Have a good Sunday.

Chris

[duff]

Certain words transport me to countries. Saying abacus took me to Japan learning in grade school how to use one. The calm sound of trains. False light projecting. Our old bedroom a time capsule. A very enjoyable read.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you duff for your thoughts which were of real interest. Abacus and Japan have a real link for you. I appreciate your share and your visit.

Chris

[duff]

They actually would have abacus tournaments and I've never seen hands move that quick. You're welcome. A fun read for sure.

[Fran Marie]

one can envision the vivid scene
within this well crafted poem
of bygone times ..detailed
descriptives of that era so
well expressed ..enjoyed

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Fran for sharing your thoughts and your kind review. All the best.

Chris

[Fran Marie]

quite welcome dear friend

[William Michael Reeves]

I was starting to think you may have been drinking that same potion Alice drank before stepping into wonderland. I would describe this poem as ambiguous. Which I like because it feels good to scratch my head.

[Chris Shaw]

Ambiguous is fine by me. You know I am an insomniac and it appears it started early in life. My sis sleeping soundly while I was wide awake counting trains :) Thanks Bill for stopping by.

Chris

[William Michael Reeves]

Sleep deprivation causes hallucinatory poems. I see!

[Chris Shaw]

Ha! :)...............

[Laz K.]

It might be a cliche, but it's true nevertheless, that art can open doors to another one's soul, and transport us into another world. This poem is a good example of such art.

[Chris Shaw]

My roots in the west of London. Pleased you stopped by to share your thoughts Laz. Thank you so much.

Chris

[Gee]

How annoying your sister sleeps so easily whilst You struggle to get some shut eye :)
You paint a vivid picture of a life lived in the 50's, 60s. I remember the " jaundiced" nets well, there was no Mrs Hinch in those times!
So descriptive, loved it, makes me want to try my hand :))

[Chris Shaw]

Aw thanks Gee. I seem to be on a nostalgia kick at the moment. That is all my absent and lazy muse can offer me. Just back after yet another holiday. I wonder if she will stay? Pleased you liked this one and I am more than pleased you stopped by.

Chris