Poems from writing retreat

I come from
I come from ‘kiddy’ like

From angel named and dad’s girl

From ‘Ser Bear’ can have what she wanted.
I come from Mums are so sensible

From the smell of Jeyes’ Fluid and Tea Tree oil

From dentist visits and “clean up please.”
I come from having a silver cross and my hero’s St Christopher

From talking to myself and him talking calm sense to me.

From “if it’s worth you having baby, it’s worth you fighting for.”
I come from protests at tinned peas

From chocolate please

From “baby is so funny, just like her mummy.”
I come from the smell of Nan’s apple pies

From picking blackberries along the road

From an older man, spinning lies…
I went to “Marry me please”

To a home among tall pine trees

To paper immigration and Canadian contemplation
I went to our broken dream

Then the angriest of screams

Then our marriage ripping at the seams
I came back to Dad’s large arms

To nanny’s home charms

To mummy’s clean and my brokenness unseen.
By SB

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Kidderminster

It’s “Kiddy like”

Its ride your bike.

Its multi-coloured rivers

From factory carpet dippers.

Its many cars on their way

For who would want to stay.

It’s not Birmingham or Worcester

But an intertwined waster,

It’s a town with a city sound.

It’s got no shop centre

Its inhabitant’s dissenter

Its generic supermarkets, Give it some spit.

Its “kiddy like” to have a fight

It’s Park Street’s weed that fills the night,

It’s the canal towpath meet

Its youth who you’ll greet

Its police ASBO warnings

It’s yawning but not at all boring

It’s my gang and our click.

“You Jubilee Drive or Brinton chick?”

Are you ‘kiddy’ Harriers Proud?

It’s Saturday massing Saturday crowd.

“Yer it’s kiddy like”

It’s “get on ya bike!” or “take a hike!”

If you’re not ‘kiddy’ like.

By SB