Not absent - still here!
Keep Calm and Carry On Poeming. 😂
I placed one foot in front of the other
Late at night in a northern English town.
Through a northerly gale in November
With a wind chill which all but bought me down.
I’d been dropped by a bus around midnight
For a job interview the coming day;
No normal public service in daylight
Left me with this trip as the only way.
My core temperature on the shut down
Much needed shelter absent from the street,
I could see two lights only in the town,
One, a five star inn was far too elite.
For me it wasn’t really an option;
At the time I earned just enough to eat.
The second light had to be salvation -
This a blue light at the end of the street.
Yes, it was of course a police station,
The reception area small and spare.
The desk sergeant gave me his attention
And scoped me with his professional stare.
Managed to explain my situation
With mouth frozen almost beyond repair,
And while there were holes in my narration
The sins he was searching for just weren’t there.
He allowed me a seat in reception;
After outside my condition felt sweet
Because this way it was a salvation
From a slow lingering end on the street.
The next hour there were no other punters
Either casual or under arrest.
The sergeant was not busy with others
So he offered me a mug of his best ->
Well brewed tea and for this I was grateful;
Also a biscuit - it felt like a treat,
(Could have done with hot water and towel
To give comfort to my half frozen feet).
On returning the mug I was offered
The chance to kip for the rest of the night;
I hesitated and then accepted
A downstairs cell which by then felt alright.
The cell was clean if a little spartan;
But the mattress an upgrade from the chair-
Asked if the door be closed or left open,
He accepted my choice of - just ajar.
With my head on my pack as my pillow
I thought I might dine out on this one day,
Not realizing when feeling mellow
That lines of doggerel would have a say.
-
Author:
Doggerel Dave (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 16th, 2021 06:39
- Comment from author about the poem: Late ‘60’s. Truly the coldest I’ve ever been in my life. Didn’t get the job. I was working in theatre at that time (behind the scenes – no ‘to be or not to be’ for me).That small town had an even smaller Repertory theatre......(sour grapes?)
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments7
Well written Dave. The things we do.
Thanks Jerry - and as always, there's a lot I didn't, but looking back at a quite circuitous path with a few dead ends, there's not much I regret.
Well written, Dave. You drew me in and I could feel the cold. Kudos!
Great, Fred - happy to live in Hawaii ?
Grew up in Switzerland, lived in Montreal, now thirty-two years in Hawaii. I had my share of cold, but now my old bones are much better off here. Miss the seasons sometimes though.
EE BAH GUM lad, luxury.... tha got to spend a neet in't cells an ya never got beat up fost... luxury.
Thems breeds us 'ard in't north lad.
🙂 'Take your word for that, dusk: was a very brief foray into the wilds up there.
Good story Dave which shows that there were (and are) good people around us.
Andy
Yes Andy - 'tis ofttimes true.....
Glad you liked my yarn.
Dave
.............. You tell a mean tale DD
Glad you don't mind plodding through it, one stanza after another, Nev.
Ah - am still experiencing the chill you describe well in this part of your trilogy Dave - a visit you will never forget methinks to that small northern town and told so realistically I was almost there - that cell could tell some tales I bet but yours would be hardly believed - - an amazing memory compellingly rhymed.
Great Fay. I feel I might be over egging it when I quote "what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger." but the situation was dire and when I managed to extract myself from it in this way, I was!
This was a great tale. In all my adventures in life I can't say I have done this. Desperation breeds ingenuity. I decided to take your advice on the last poem and soon will tell a tale of my past. Thanks for the great story.
I'm glad you made that decision, Soren. My taste is for more reality and less metaphorical counting of navel fluff.
I hope for many stories, not just one!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.