Becoming a man

The walk had been quieter than usual
Both hid our courage inside
We held hands as always
Yours small and soft
With a Panda in the other.

The gates appeared only too quickly
I handed you your satchel
You did not cry though I did
In the warm you looked up at me
And said 'Goodbye Mummy'.

I knew you were then a man
Taking the lead, going first,
That moment clings to me
Cherished for its bravery
My one and only son.

Love Mum xxxx

Watching the wooden slating,
Where window met sill,
Saw spiders creeping,
Under a full moon,
Owls hooted in the distance,
And the smell of country air
Seeped in amongst fresh sheets.

Our annual holiday on the Island,
Taking it in turns for top bunk,
And first for the bathroom,
Sitting on nylon deck chairs,
Eating cornflakes from a plastic bowl,
This was heaven looking back,
Unless it rained all week.

Thank you Mum and Dad

When I was born we still had prefabs,
Just across the road on a patch of land,
Stood four homes like big camper vans,
Windows and a door,
Chimneys too.
People seemed to love them,
A home for a few.

Now most are gone,
Replaced with flats,
Or new houses,
With gardens at the back,
But after the war,
With poor housing stock,
These prefabs were a luxury,
Many glad to have.

Love Mary ***

It seems to me
When you are young
And never again does it come
A sort of madness
Invades the scene
One wallks about
In another stream.

And so it came to be
On a hot and sunny day
Walking down a crowded street
Not dressed quite complete
In fact hardly anything at all
A bikini and nothing more
Went with boyfriend
Whose name was Rog
Dark and handsome
My prince frog
We went to pay a bill
For his mother
At Basildon still.

How the folks looked at me
Skipping along
In my frills
All the chaps turned around
Women whispered underground.
Everybody seemed to smile
Was this thing really allowed.

Now I am old and grey
Everybody looks away
But in my heart
I'm still that lass
Whose behaviour was
Rather rash.

Mary

We had so much fun when we were very young. Thank you my Roger.

Enter down concrete steps
To the basement flat
Iron railings
Black door
Red painted hall
Condensation on the floor.

Two up, two down
The basement flat
Scrunched together
Back to back
Three sisters, mum and dad
Then the brothers quickly had.

Grandad's face always stern
Impeccably dressed
In shirt and vest
Roast dinners
were the best
Plates on a dresser rest.

Out the back a concrete patch
To play a cricket bat
Across from that
These tenement stacks
Elm trees give a screen
To this suffocating scene.

Street life was the choice
It gave freedom a voice
The boys gathered out late
Playing football with their mates
Fathers called from indoors
Time to stop that ****** noise.

A mile or so stood the hoards
Of Wormwood Scrubs' prison floors
Then there was the track
White City and greyhound backs
Chelsea loved by all the boys
Arsenal just upped their score.

The skyline filled with birds
The trains go rattling by
And yet from this place
My father took himself a pace
Up the street and far away
On a bright and sunny day.

Mary x

GERTIE.  

A family of nine
Mother died
Father took a gun but no one knew
He blew
For the sorrow was too much
I heard.
But you my children's Nana
With your country life
Potato digging
Outside toilet
Did not expect
A Rolls Royce
You came to visit regularly
And at our door
My children stood
Arms wide for your smile
The smell of lipstick
On their cheek
At each third weekend
Roast beef in paper bag
Toys and sweeties galore
At first I found it hard
Different flesh I suppose
But came to love you
As my own
A second mother
Not home grown.

And when you died
At eighty
From a brain tumour
I felt I had lost
Someone I could trust
Stoic saviour of my soul
Whose knitting
I have still.

Love Mary

To Aunty Betty my children's wonderful Nana from Walthamstow. Thank you for all your love and I m

We would sit together
On that black vinyl settee
With the orange cushions
And stretched zips ,split.
With the light going down
Over the horizon
Across the fields
To the bay
And the small lampshade
Bringing comfort
Lit up the corner
Near the table
Where we had our teacups
And a bicuit tin,
Half empty.
We would talk
Later into the night
You in one armchair
And I near the table
Returning always
To put the world to rights;
It was better in the old days
When neighbours lent
A pint of milk
And you knew the man
Who sold broken biscuits
And there weren't so many cars
Two in most front gardens now.
Then you would be near asleep
And I ready to go too
But we continued
Talking on and off
Till by three o'clock
We had to stop.
If I could have you back.

Love to my dearest dad Eric William Henry Ayton -Robinson

You stand in front of me
Little boy
A face so gentle and intent
On telling me about your day
With head tipped to one side
You tell me stories with your eyes
Slowly in you quiet notes
So I not miss a sentiment
Stories you like to write
About animals and life
With long expansive words
You always will be heard
A writer you'd like to be
Someone special
We shall see.
Thank you
For all your words
I keep them in my heart
Well stirred.

With love to Monty from Grandma ***

MILO.
IT'S OK.

At 13 life
Can feel
Like an empty purse
Childhood verses
Disperse
But you'd rather
Be there with your Lego
Building bridges in your mind
Places magical
And fine
Not the lessons
You are bored
Homework
Such a chore
Inside your house
You escape
Relax, collapse
Take the dog
For a walk.

When people ask
How was your day
You look at them
And say It's ok.

For my Milo , soft as a bird's wing.
It will get better . Love you my dear grandson. From Grandma ***

Her name is that
Of past hours
From days of power
And magnificence
When marble busts
Were cast
To satisfy
The desire
For eternity.

But this little beauty
Will not end her days
In  lofty halls
With locked and barred doors
The dust settling on her hair
For she will be suspended
Captured and rendered
On all the screens
That can be seen
From phone to
The Internet
And global websites
Printed texts.

Her name is Delphi
Youngest child
Full lipped star
Hair falling long
Over her arms
Eyes dark under
Arched brows
Peachy cheeks
Tanned skin
In the princess dress
She loves the best
From Asda or Primark.

To my lovely Delphi of the dollies love from Grandma xxxxx

For a time I took photographs
In black and white
To enhance
What is timeless
And thus free
From the world's
Scrutiny.

In layered petticoat
Edged with lace
White and flimsy
Which did float
Wellington boots
And handknit coat.

******* ribbon in her hair
The fairest waves
Lay just there
On her shoulders
Round her face
A touch of angelic grace.

I took my Daisy
To the shops
A yard or two to pop
To get something
Nice for tea.
Biscuits, sweets
And ice cream freeze.

As with an artist's eye
Could not let this moment by
Blonde curls she peered around
I captured this without a sound.

The photograph of a little girl
In an undated world
Classless, nameless
For all to see
The wonders of simplicity.

Best photograph I have ever taken. Thank you Daisy  May , love Grandma ***

WIMBLEDON COMMON

Wimbledon common
Was always the place to go,
Catching the train from Streatham
The family all aglow,
Sandwiches in a paper bag
Thermos in a sack,
Plastic sandels and tennis racket
Not forgetting the cricket bat.

Everyone was skippy
The sun high in the sky,
Dad had his umbrella
But the rain was shy,
Jumping from the platform
Down a row of steps,
Brother took a tumble
And that was that.

Plasters in a pocket
All was mended soon,
Finally recovered
Felt over the moon,
Reached the grassy stretches
Whoops mind the dogs,
Come away from the lovers
They're out for a jog.

Find a shiny tree trunk
Horizontal on the ground,
Four happy people
Tuck in to raspberry jam,
Now for the thermos
Plastic cups ahead,
Here come the wasps
To eat our jam and bread.

Later penguin biscuits
And a trip behind the bin,
Dad puts out the wickets
Let's see who wins,
After a quiet session
Brother looses his cool,
Slings the bat skyward
You should see it go,
Mother looked upwards
Covering her head,
Just managed to miss it
Landing on the hedge.

I went off walking
To gather pretty flowers,
Dad hid under the paper
We had a quiet hour,
Clouds gathering slowly
The sun going down,
What a lovely day in the country
We're now homeward bound.

In memory and gratitude to my lovely mum and dad
Grace and Eric Ayton- Robinson who always did their best.
Love Mary **

You came at me running the night in,
Pink shirt, gold buttoned waistcoat,
No one knew my trembling heart,
Touching the night stars with a kiss,
The curtains letting in the morning light,
And we becoming white mountains,
Rowing into togetherness with oars of
Steel.

Love Mary to Roger xxxx