Poem Of The Month: November 2010

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For November's Poem of the Month I have chosen Roger Hudson's poem Greybell Wood. It is taken from his collection: "GREYBELL WOOD AND BEYOND."

GREYBELL WOOD

Blue, hazy blue

Lazy hazy sea of bluebells

Floats on pale green carpet

Smells, fragrant smells

Oceans of perfumed air

Buzz of insects

Drowsily murmuring

Bluebell ringing for spring pollen

Memories only.

No blues, no smells, no sounds

From an ageing black and white photo

With its full range of greys

That prompts the memories.

A mother with two young children

Chubby all three

Seated on fallen tree

Among the bluebells

Clutching bunches of plucked flowers

Bluebells, campions

Posing

Smiling at unseen father’s camera

In odourless silent monochrome

But memory struggles to supply the colours

Drawing on subsequent experience

Selecting

The obvious, the sensual

In the attempt to defeat

The dictatorship of monochrome

Cheating

In the cause of nostalgia

That dress mum wears

Navy blue with pale blue pattern

If I remember rightly

My sister’s dress…

That was yellow…

I think

My short-sleeved shirt…

Very pale blue…

I guess

But, in monochrome’s range of greys,

They could be any pale colour

Mum’s cardigan

What colour was that?

Just dark

Dark blue? Dark brown? Black?

Hair colours now

Were I and my sister blonder at that age

Than we became

As we grew?

Until she took to bottle blonding

To look more glamorous

But green, blue

Leaves, bluebells

Trees, sky

Seen many times since

Insects heard

Perfumes smelled

Cheating memory

Creating phantom memory

Re-creation

That will do just as well

Till someone questions it

Even so the monochrome image still enough

To tug at those emotions recalled

Of warmth protection security

Loving mother

Caring nurturing

Even if

In hindsight

Maybe a bit too close

Too cloying

Fostering a sense of reliance

Obedience

Inhibiting

The decision-making of maturity

Pre-empting

Independence

Preventing

Even maturity itself

Still that nostalgic image

Pulls the strings of emotion

To conjure back

A golden age early childhood

Before security ends

And uncertainty starts