Monday, November 17, 2008

Family and poetry and dark afternoons

There must be something about this time of year - the dark afternoons, the urge to cook in the warm kitchen, to store food like a squirrel - which, more than any other time, arouses memories. Or maybe it's simply that after a very family-orientated weekend and the thought of those dysfunctional families where the result of parental instability is a tortured, dead child I can think of little else but the contrast between my own experience and the bleak awfulness that is the life of far too many people.

Whatever the stimulus, I've written another new poem. The child concerned has no recollection of the moment evoked, which presumably meant far more to me than to him. But isn't that par for the course?


  1. Chris, I always attributed the baking flurry to the excitement of the impending holiday season, but ah, how the resulting scents take the edge off any bad weather that might be found lurking outside the door!

    I read your poem and I absolutely adore it! Michelle and I have been watching the series entitled "Road to Avonlea" and I must admit that after seeing these particular videos, the images conjured in my imagination came easily, as the videos deal with memories much the same as your own!

    My fondest memories of Michelle and Ben were created in the woods behind our home, where the two of them lived in their own wonderful little world...They often retreated to their "secret place" in which they lived out their desire to be Native Americans"! They built little "homes", lashing sticks together with rope, and even laid a lovely "patio" from flat stones they found.

    It truly is a pity that some adults are so messed up that they fail to share in their children's lives (and fantasies), much less destroy the very lives of their children....

  2. Anonymous5:40 PM

    Hi Chris, I loved the poem... makes it hard knowing that my lad is the other side of the world and won't be coming home for Christmas, no matter how lovely a cake I bake. Never mind, I have to cook for 42 people for Christmas dinner in a fortnight and another 30 the week after so my kitchen will be roasting - guess who's having beef for Christmas Day?

  3. Glad to have stirred up some memories (as well as the cake...)