SOUVENIR LACE • by Sue Morgan
White-block foursquare,
glare of a sun without shadows,
dried-fly plaster, coarse-limed.
Thin chickens tip at dirt’s sweep
and daylight neon advertises
Coca Cola. Cold. Refreshing. Cheap.
My ride’s over, hot and dusty,
sugar cane, tall as escape’s trusty
ladder. Feet trail in gathered grime
and I remember ’79.
Another hot day in Jerusalem,
sat on the kerb, in a plaza like this,
fizzy Coke in hand, approaching bliss,
shared with the brown-eyed boy from Gaza,
then I saw the shiny lines that traced,
shrapnel’s illuminating shot-grey lace.
Sue Morgan lives in Northern Ireland with her husband and teenage sons. She taught reading and writing to children with learning difficulties and is now taking time to learn to write herself.
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6 Responses to “SOUVENIR LACE • by Sue Morgan”
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marion Says:
March 5th, 2012 at 9:09 amThis poem transports us to another world, but it is no idyllic holiday location, with images such ‘dried-fly plaster’ ‘dirt’s sweep’, and ‘gathered grime.’
The reader experiences some relief in the ‘bliss’ of a cold drink shared with the young boy, but it is short lived when we find out the the ‘souvenir lace’ of the title is not the work of an old peasant woman, but the shiny scars from the boys shrapnel wounds.
A very strong poem, Sue.
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J. B. Hogan Says:
March 5th, 2012 at 11:29 amThis is a fine poem. Strong and realistic. Well done. Deserves a higher rating.
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Sue Morgan Says:
March 5th, 2012 at 11:37 amThank you JB Hogan. I must admit that the poems that I have posted here before have had a higher rating…but it gives me a clear idea of what people like and what they don’t.
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Rachel Sutcliffe Says:
March 5th, 2012 at 12:28 pmPowerful writing, very strong Sue, well done
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Barbara Boyd-Anderson Says:
March 5th, 2012 at 12:38 pmSue, a strong and vivid poem that delivers that shock ending so well..The beauty and the terror here in those last lines. An impressive write about a tough subject..Well done…XX
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Declan Furlong Says:
March 5th, 2012 at 1:29 pmHi Sue.. A fine poem, with a powerful ending. The poem really takes off (I think) from line 4 “Thin chickens tip at dirt’s sweep”…………. where rhyme starts to play it’s part in
directing the reader to the pace of the poem..
You set the scene brilliantly with the first three lines.. (very difficult to paint such a vivid scene any other way than you have really)
I think that a line break, between lines 3 and 4 would really work well..First… You’ve set the scene
Then.. The scene unfolds through irregular rhyme.. Or I could be talking s###e..
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