Bumbling Poetry No. 11

A woman near us fell down the stairs. She
Had a black eye for some time. We were glum
About it, desperate to help it heal.
I wanted to say; I fell down the stairs-
Once, but they weren’t my stairs. I didn’t have
To live with them. And although I can’t pass by
That house without feeling my steps get
Heavier, warily eyeing even
The curb- I know it’s not the same. I could
Get her the number of a bungalow,
But so could she. I’m sure she has good
Reasons, for staying put, I’m sure I would
See the difficulty in moving, if-
I had asked. I don’t want to have only
Offered tea and smiled at the bruised face
Of a woman, to find she was later one
Of two that week to die, falling down the stairs-
But what can you do?

Bumbling vintage finds No. 4

I was visiting Rochester recently and perusing one of the second hand bookshops the town is blessed with when I found a big box full of old postcards, some of them over a hundred years old. It seems that back when getting your picture taken was still a luxury people would have them printed as postcards and send them to loved ones. So quite a few of the postcards had handwriting on the back by the people featured in the picture.

 

I only let myself look though a tiny section of the box and then these were whittled down from a shortlist, it was hard, I felt like I was rejecting the importance of the personal histories of the ones I left behind. I'm sure someone else will pick them up.

'22/7/10
Dear alf,
the photo I promised. It looks as though I am waiting for you, doesn't it
I felt like the only pebble on the beach.
Love from,
Rose'

'I must ve looked angry, but I thought I was looking cheerful
or rather I tried to, if not it would have been a picture.
You can burn it if you don't like it.
H.J.B'

'To the sweetest girl in the world
Dont Worry.
This is us in August.
Love, Charlie.'