Book of poems written for the second and third years of the Promptly Poetry Challenge. |
A First Neighbourhood Plumstead, the neighbourhood of my childhood (and do not neighbourhoods belong to children?), a land of little houses on quarter acre plots and the lattice of straight roads between them, arena for the games our little gang invented, up and down the street and in the vacant plot, and the wide field at the far end, open grassland bounded in the distance by main road and other houses, where the dogs could run and hunt for moles that they never caught, but the fun was in the dig. Deliveries by horse and cart (long since vanished) and my father with haste and spade, following to harvest the contributions for his compost heap, the warm and fragrant source of garden success. I do remember he planted bottles as well as plants, the theory being, the sound of wind across their necks would keep the moles away. It may have worked for I never saw a molehill in our yard, front or back. It was another world, a place lost long ago, though I can trace the streets on Google Earth, still laid in lattice pattern between the houses, but gone even so, the people changed or moved away, a diaspora of childhood scattered by the wind of time, blowing over Table Bay and the mountain. Line count: 24 Free verse For Promptly Poetry, Week 15 Prompt: Write a poem about your neighborhood. |