Monday, July 26, 2010

Throwing Light on a Letter!


Two memes arrive, almost in conjunction,
And I find  have not the least compunction,
Blending the two in one brief verse;
So brief it may be almost terse!
You ask for 'Light' well here's Vermeer!
Master of Light! We see it here
Lighting up the shadowy gloom
Of the letter-recipient's room.
You ask for 'Letter' well it's in her hand!
(Memes delivered on demand!)
And something else I'll add for fun;
This lady is clearly not a nun!
Vermeer adds a broom for good measure,
Not because a broom's a treasure,
But because it's a symbol of illicit love!
Good heavens! What am I thinking of!
A case of historic immorality!
A lady 'no better than she ought to be'!
'Light' and 'Letter' my conjoined themes,
Brought to you by two little memes!


If you buy me a ticket to Alton Towers
You'll earn no gratitude!
I'll turn it down
With a withering frown,
Though I'll be considered rude.

Once, so long ago, my Alton Towers
Lay hidden among the trees,
Etched on the sky
With turrets high
Like the towers on some ancient frieze.

The barbed-wire, fashioned to keep us out
Was no match for our youthful zeal
We'd giggle and laugh
As we climbed the path
For 'The War' seemed quite unreal.

Though Armageddon had been unleashed,
We were free to roam, quite wild,
No lurking 'Stranger'
To threaten 'Danger',
A child could be a child.

Oh, yes, there were soldiers, so we heard,
In the buildings tucked away
And excitement grew
For we always knew
That they would not let us stay.

Covered in moss were neglected paths,
We watched where we put our feet.
Flowers, untamed,
By weeds now claimed,
Were neither pruned nor neat.

The gates had gone and the railings too
'For munitions' so they said,
We were free as air
As we wandered there
Wherever the wild paths led.

And acre on acre stretched out, it seemed,
To the very edge of time.
And our hearts beat fast
As we wandered past!
Trespassing was a crime!

The Chinese Pagoda! What a thrill
To climb up to the top.
No safety rail
If our hold should fail!
And below a dizzying drop.

The nineteen-forties, a time of Fear
Of bestial, warlike powers,
But not for me,
Because, you see,
I remember Alton Towers.

And so they advertise Alton Towers.
'Come for the Rides!' they say.
But there isn't a chance
That I'd waste a glance
On the place as it is today.

My Alton Towers was a place of dreams,
And something set apart.
It is gone, I fear,
But I hold it near
In a special place in my heart.


Old Egg said...

What a painting to entice us with, plus the titillating mention of the broom. A delightful poem as well.

I wonder whether the girl had been forbidden to play on the instrument and this view through the doorway past the broom suggests her little crime.

Dee Martin said...

I have seen pictures of that painting but didn't know the bit about the broom.
Googled Alton Towers and I have to agree - the old place had to be better. Gracious!