Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Fay walks out of the flat onto the red brick and grey concrete balcony her father's angry words in her ears and her head his hand mark on her thigh red throbbing making cry it's Sunday below her the empty tarmac Square pigeons there no one else excepting the milkman with his horse and milk cart and bottles rattling flats all round opposite and beside she sees it watery as from a goldfish bowl she gently rubs her thigh all because she didn't know the Creed in Latin all way through of the mass the strict nuns at her school had told him of this fact some one moves on the Square she watches young Baruch with brown hair grey pullover and blue jeans walk along holding his catapult she gazes he looks up waves to her come on down he beckons mouthing words she wonders if she should her father doesn't like the Jew boy stay away from the Jew he tells her she waves back at Baruch should she go? she likes him makes her laugh tells her things she goes down the stairway rushes down excited she feels safe with Baruch her fears leave disappear where are you going to? she asks him any where I want to he replies the whole world's my oyster she smiles now the red thigh still throbbing can I come? she asks him if you like what about your old man won't he mind? she stares at hazel eyes and brown hair 'spect he will she replies she shows him her red thigh what's that for? Baruch asks not knowing all of the Latin Creed she mutters is that all? does God care? Baruch asks I don't know Fay replies looking up at the flat let's go then adventure beckons us he tells her they walk off down the slope cross the road then walk up Meadow Row quietly to the site of bombed out wrecked houses and remains he picks up small round stones loads up his catapult flies at cans or bottles left behind by drunkards she watching as the sound echoes loud in the air breaking in her Sabbath smashing glass crashing cans your go now he tells her handing her his weapon the wooden catapult and a stone she fires at a can BANG it echoes a voice shouts IT'S SUNDAY TIME OF REST GO AWAY Baruch smiles best be off and they walk on to the New Kent Road he holding her thin hand she thinking about her father's rage Baruch thinks of her hand warm and soft and looks out for cowboys the bad guys ambushing from corners of this new Dodge City she feels safe holding hands 12 years old as is he as they walk their own new London Town Dodge City.
0
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
HER SABBATH.
Fay walks out of the flat onto the red brick and grey concrete balcony her father's angry words in her ears and her head his hand mark on her thigh red throbbing making cry it's Sunday below her the empty tarmac Square pigeons there no one else excepting the milkman with his horse and milk cart and bottles rattling flats all round opposite and beside she sees it watery as from a goldfish bowl she gently rubs her thigh all because she didn't know the Creed in Latin all way through of the mass the strict nuns at her school had told him of this fact some one moves on the Square she watches young Baruch with brown hair grey pullover and blue jeans walk along holding his catapult she gazes he looks up waves to her come on down he beckons mouthing words she wonders if she should her father doesn't like the Jew boy stay away from the Jew he tells her she waves back at Baruch should she go? she likes him makes her laugh tells her things she goes down the stairway rushes down excited she feels safe with Baruch her fears leave disappear where are you going to? she asks him any where I want to he replies the whole world's my oyster she smiles now the red thigh still throbbing can I come? she asks him if you like what about your old man won't he mind? she stares at hazel eyes and brown hair 'spect he will she replies she shows him her red thigh what's that for? Baruch asks not knowing all of the Latin Creed she mutters is that all? does God care? Baruch asks I don't know Fay replies looking up at the flat let's go then adventure beckons us he tells her they walk off down the slope cross the road then walk up Meadow Row quietly to the site of bombed out wrecked houses and remains he picks up small round stones loads up his catapult flies at cans or bottles left behind by drunkards she watching as the sound echoes loud in the air breaking in her Sabbath smashing glass crashing cans your go now he tells her handing her his weapon the wooden catapult and a stone she fires at a can BANG it echoes a voice shouts IT'S SUNDAY TIME OF REST GO AWAY Baruch smiles best be off and they walk on to the New Kent Road he holding her thin hand she thinking about her father's rage Baruch thinks of her hand warm and soft and looks out for cowboys the bad guys ambushing from corners of this new Dodge City she feels safe holding hands 12 years old as is he as they walk their own new London Town Dodge City.
A BOY AND GIRL IN 1950S LONDON
terry-collett
Written by
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem