Home Sweet Home

Doggerel Dave

I, employed during 1981
As care worker with adolescent boys
Delinquent and referred from court; such fun -
Full of testosterone, agro, all noise.
The place had just opened and was brand new;
We staff were new although the boys were old -          
An outcome of their past on which they drew;
Surviving misfortune had made them bold.                   
They rioted but then it settled down.
The neighbors viewed them with much suspicion
When leave was granted, although not to town;
And boys roamed locally with permission.                    
Some youths returned after a local lurk
Kicking an odd shaped object to our door.
It passed between them using skilled footwork,
A goal! our office roof –  oh what a score!                    
But one day I finished there (which was wise)       
And rescued the football I found to be
A comic garden gnome with button eyes
Built of light fibre who I now set free.                              
During the unrest I’d been punched and kicked
Like violence to my gnome at end of day;                           
Much empathy with the friend I had picked
Prompted me to remove him from harm’s way.                    
I transferred to Sydney somewhat later -
As my trunk had some space he came with me.
Some would say my choice could not be dafter
Yet he stood by my door at peace, now free.                    
Though his rosy cheeks and vibrant fashion
Were lost forever to the Aussie sun;
No sunscreen for gnomes meant he was ashen -
A tan was not possible for this one.                                     
The Australian sunlight was too strong
And Wilfred* refused a hat with a brim.
So a gnome valet service came along
From the yellow pages to make him trim.                       
It was on Wilf’s return that he was seen
Without his cheery cheeks, perhaps for good.
A mellow brown face meant that he had been
Naturalized in the only way gnomes could.           
My quiet comrade now dwells in my loo
A nice position in that smallest room
He, immune from weather and kidnap too
Greets his guests with a fake rose in full bloom.     
Brown face he has, but inside he will stay
As global warming will affect us all
More so for Wilfred I would have to say
As last time exposure was a close call.                                  
*Not his real name. (smuggled in – didn’t complete immigration formalities).
  • Author: Doggerel Dave (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 24th, 2021 19:01
  • Comment from author about the poem: A meandering piece of whimsy, but true!
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 40


  • Goldfinch60

    Some things that seem odd become so important in our lives as Wilfred has for you.


  • Doggerel Dave

    Thanks Andy. He was a symbol and souvenir of my time at that place which, as in the majority of my life experiences, taught me many things.
    He's certainly a weird but decorative addition to the mostly functional nature of my WC.

  • FredPeyer

    I truly enjoyed your poem Dave. And I think his final resting place is a good one. At least you have somebody to talk to instead of sitting there all alone.

    • Doggerel Dave

      Suggesting i'm a bit delusional when i'm on the bog, are yer? Might have to find out where yer live and come and have a quiet word..........

    • Neville

      these tales/disclosures of yours are worth their weight ... you should seriously try to do more with them than just pin them to a page here ...

      or maybe you do .. or maybe that's not your cup of tea ....

      • Doggerel Dave

        I do like tea very strong (no milk, no sugar) Assam for preference.
        Can't think of anything else.... all suggestions gratefully considered....

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