Misc ~ Gallery 2 Please click on individual thumbnail for larger image

This painting is based on a poem by a british poet - Richard Skellington, a british poet	This painting is based on a poem by a british poet - Richard Skellington, a british poet	This painting is based on a poem by a british poet - Richard Skellington, a british poet
Goodbye Mr Read I Ninety two years young Mr Read sat on his old And very comfortable leather armchair Switched on the table lamp Stroked his grizzled beard and sighed His fingers fumbled for his pipe Lost in the folds of his long white beard Worn in memory of Merlin the Magician Now stained with tobacco And the daily diet of eggs and tea An east wind rattled the panes of glass The smoke drifted upwards In arcs of blue grey light Here in this home-made conservatory Put together in retirement Out of old sheds wardrobes and a creaking gate He sat out the rest of his days Does me good to see you dear boy He said as I entered the living space That was kitchen bedroom Library and observatory Here from dawn till dusk he watched The birds in his Eden And the goldfish glide Between the lilies in the pond I have twenty three sparrows this spring Two more than last year His eyes stared beyond the garden And then in lost reverie he said Oh yes, dear boy I remember When I retired from the school Every day was mine every day No more timetables Except my own They were the best of days They were indeed I had a real water dog way back then He followed me everywhere Do you know When I threw a stick into the old mill race He would dive in whatever the weather Even in snow and ice And he always This will make you laugh He always always returned the stick to the very spot Where I had stood to throw it in But you see I had moved on It always made me smile Then silence And the song of birds Mr Read smiled again and rubbed his beard Oh yes old Shep always made me smile He paused and fiddled with his pipe And gave a wise man’s shrug A deeper thought appeared Just like the children Just like the King Street boys* His mind was elsewhere now Puffing his old clay pipe Transfixed in memory Of homework long ago Now he was back in school II Down the glass corridors The first school bell chimed Among the playground throng Of conker throwing boys And then clink clink The first distinct echo It was a most familiar Haunting sound Heard by generations Mr Read cometh Be on your toes you boys His hobnailed shoes left then right Steps coming down the hall Chiding and correcting Even before he entered The gladiatorial pit Worn he told the staff room once To let the blighters know he was coming Assembly quick you boys Bring the goalposts in from the rain You’ll need them to wear for home Jenkins please put Peters down You boy don’t run Quietly now in step Go to assembly In now run run Inside the school hall On the assembly stage Mr Read stood tall and erect To silence the boys’ morning song He cleared his throat And began to deliver His last fable from the past Thirty six years man and boy Had stood there In the early morning light Shining through high arches And now here they were Eager faces dressed in new uniforms He opened a book of poems and read Slowly from one of Housman’s best ‘ Little is the luck I’ve had And oh ‘tis comfort small To think that many another lad Has had no luck at all’ A long pause Even the caretaker was here today His deep voice spoke in kindly tones Looking at the silent beguiled faces Some he had seen a generation before Boys hung on his every word I taught your fathers And your fathers’ fathers Some I taught ‘tis true Did have no luck ‘ Tis true no luck at all But many did And so I hope do you Something perhaps you learned from me Swayed the falling of the dice IV He sat down A few nervous coughs rippled across the hall A boy with shiny satchel Holding a brown paper parcel Agitated climbed the steps We wish you luck sir He said and put the parcel In his headmaster’s hands Mr read opened it The Origin of the Species By Charles Darwin Well well How did you know I wanted this Thank you all Thank you all So much The sound of boys clapping filled the hall The gowned staff stood and applause rang Down the corridors beyond the playground And into the cobbled streets Just like the children Just like the King Street boys V And then he was back with me Back from his hall of time Old Jack saw the little boy again He’ll be grown up now Running a bank no doubt He laughed and emptied The contents of his tar-stained pipe Into the pot of dead geraniums And looked at the birds beyond the glass His hands Pock marked with the ravages of age Looked down in his lap And turned the pages of a book Charles Darwin The Origin Did I ever tell you about my first dog It was a real water dog that dog He said *King Street was the boys’ entrance to his school, the girls entered through the adjacent Queen’s Street	Collateral Damage Death came in a whisper To the rag dolled girl In the field of rocks Contorted One arm outstretched The hand twisted She appeals To the last drop of humanity In a deaf world My blood is your blood See it here splashed On rock on field She cries Her staring eyes accuse Remember me I have forgotten I was ever born Remember Remember My wasted life It lived it laughed Like yours I had known only love till now

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