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Slipstream Poem

 

 

Inspired by two slipstream Workshops

 

 

Criticising

 

What the Dickens do the BBC

Think they are doing

Putting ‘Martin Chuzzlewit’ on

When we are going to bed?

If I stay up to watch

I fall asleep.

My critical faculties

Unaware of the excellence

Of the production,

The soundness of the celebrities,

To say nothing of the costumes.

(All this I read next day

In the newspaper.)

 

Stained Glass

 

The large family always sat in church

Together beneath the commemoration window.

When the sun shines through they glow

As if lit by an inner radiance

Father with the booming voice

Mother with her shiny, swinging hair.

Auntie, frail now, helped to the altar

For communion but she kneels there.

Older daughter and her child

Sometimes when Sunday visiting,

Younger daughter with changing

Procession of friends, male and female.

Morning Service would not be the same

without them.

 

   Betty Gilman