Kevin Michael Bloor

Dreamland

My dad was a prince, who was painfully poor. 
Creditors crept and kept knocking his door. 
He hid underground, freeing coal from its seams. 
My dad was a miner, a dreamer of dreams. 
 

My dad was a singer; he played the guitar. 
(When not up the bookies, or down the Casbah) 
He’d jam with his cousin; they\'d started a band. 
They’d cut their first single, dad called it, ‘Dreamland!’ 
 

My mum was a maiden, from Mercia she hailed. 
A beautiful princess, voluptuously veiled. 
She laughed when they named her: a mother to be. 
At last, from that sweatshop, she’d soon be set free! 
 
My mum and dad married, their loving bore fruit. 
My dad, he seemed stoic dressed up in a suit. 
My mum, she seemed sassy, all wayward and wild. 
Her heart though was warming with love for her child. 
 
My dad and mum raised me like one of their own, 
a peace-loving poet they wanted to clone. 
A child of their dreaming who’d work and get wed, 
compose them love sonnets for when they were dead. 
 
My dad died, one summer, at age thirty-nine. 
Last eyes to clap on him, I think they were mine: 
the child of his dreaming, who\'d started to see 
his dying was making a poet of me! 
 
My mum went on breathing when dad’s breath had fled. 
She wept, like a widow, alone in her bed. 
Dad’s dream, like her dreamer, to spite her, had died. 
A cross now she carried: “I’m coping,” she lied.