Ironmonger poems on Hello Poetry

Christopher James Heyworth May 2014

As a uniform, he always wore
the grey ironmonger's coat
immaculately pressed and bore
clipped hair neat as well as a
close shave.

Mr. Cornthwaite (all of us
minions called him only Mr.)
was no "Do It 'Cos I Say So" boss
but with patience would teach
and preach retail folklore:

Cooks' staples stored well inside
our mini-market shop advanced
for its 50s' existence; shelf-stacking
to re-arrange for early use-by at the
front; fast-moving lines checked
hourly if not sooner; trusted staff
becoming the Tasting Squad for
new fresh produce being considered
for supply - The Cornflake (never
uttered in his hearing) circulating
to ensure not only that his ever-clear
commands were reflected in full shelves
but also that staff were coping not
rushed or overwhelmed.

The best Warrant Officer cares
just as much commands as
my de-mobbed Warrant Officer
father used to tell me when I asked.

(c) C J Heyworth

Two pieces of advice I received when much younger have had a huge influence on how I have lived:
Dad's observation that forming people into a team is just as much about care for them as it is about command, and my grammar school headmaster's certainty that our education in his school was intended to turn us into NCOs who actually make the world work satisfactorily.

Stanley Cornthwaite was shop manager of Booth's 1950s' Blackpool mini-market which stretched from the Promenade back to The Strand, and sold far more varieties of the groceries, meats, breads and cakes than many of its competitors.
Working there during several school holidays when I was a very impressionable 13/14 year-old was my first significant work experience, showed me that I would not go into retail, but was very pleasant and informative for most of the time.
I'm unsurprised that Booth's has grown and grown, and now has several high-quality, medium-size mini-markets across the North West. It is not at all a Pile'em High & Sell'em Cheap company.

#learning #respect #teamwork #shops #command #shelf-stacking

K E Cummins Jun 2020

Camp

Restless Ulysses calling seaward
Wave-crest and trough on water
Bark seal slap rush
Carve one sweep, two sweep
Push and the wayfarer
Boot, back, and shoulder
A life neatly bundled going on
On and on and on; wander
Because no god is present
Without vastness, surrender
Fire lick crackle burn driftwood blue
On the sand in the gravel
And restless sailor calling seaward
Take the horizon to break
Spine and sinew ironmonger
The old and elderly will fondly remember
These days when we were strong
And the stars unobscured by smoke

#camping #sea #ocean #travel #spirituality #aging #illiad #strength #britishcolumbia #canada

scribler Oct 2011

The price of a mug

Lived in a small village

Of which we will see

A fair way from town

But someone to be

Aiming to try and understate

To understand not undermine

And to be free

To pick up a road through the town

Into work

Into office or ****** or

Library shop

Newspaper round and cinema

Ironmonger and motor

Someone's sister had a car

She parked on the hill

She was *** in her car

In short skirt tight shirt

Jacket on her back

Made of leather

Lined with fur

Ringed hands knuckled on her wheel

And her ankle’s playing with a

Buckle on the other side

Of the battered skin of a

Leather boot bearing no

Resemblance to the boot

Creaking under toes of

The other foot

Her knees are never static like

A spark is never still though always in one place

Tight up in her skirt

Sitting in the low seat

With the car's door open

A new song on the radio

And the blues in her heart

© scribler 2004

Revised May 2012

Lawrence Hall May 2019

The Fellowship of Ironmongery

An ironmonger is a but a hardware store
And equally inaccurate both ways
For not nearly all that is mongered is iron
Just as not all that is hardware is hard

At the ironmonger one finds toilet seats
Hammers and saws, water valves, mosquito spray
Welders’ caps and leather gloves, wrecking bars
And hunting licenses against the fall

Coffee in paper cups, men vested in jeans
Stained with the work of tending the Garden
Chanting the liturgies of field and shop
Of pump and plow and press, piston and plane

Cups empty, then, their Ite, missa est:
“Well, boys, I got to go now; y’all be blessed”

Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree: The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.

#ironmonger #hardwarestore

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