This week, the Poetry Bus is being piloted once more by the learned Professor Jeanne Iris over at Revolutionary Revelry, where the challenges - for there be three of them - have been set.
I chose the prompt about summer. Now, my ticket may not be entirely valid for this journey as we were supposed to write about a sensory experience connected to a summer memory but, being a bit rubbish and a bit rushed, I thought I'd write about something a friend and I did when we were twelve, maybe thirteen. It is a summer thing, it is a memory, and it contains the word hottest, so I just hope the ticket inspector doesn't choose this journey to come and inspect our tickets.
Summer Quest
It was the brightest day of the hottest summer ever.
We were thirteen and we had a plan.
We had talked of it, thought of it, imagined it,
And now it was finally to be. Finding Day,
The day we were going to search for it.
We had seen it from the bus,
We had seen it from the road,
Peeking above the distant houses,
Geodesic, white and mysterious.
Avid devourers of Asimov, Wells,
Arthur C Clarke and all the Science-Fiction rest,
We dreamed our own purpose upon the dome,
Alien, faceted, and gleaming white
Amid the Gasworks' grimy grey pipe and clutter.
Armed with our wits and tepid orange squash,
Unhindered by the gluey tar of melting roads,
We navigated back-street and waste ground.
Then, through chain-link diamonds, we gazed in wonder.
We had got as close as mere mortals were allowed.
The dome loomed silent over us, forever beyond reach.
This was a place hallowed to Authorised Personnel Only.
KEEP OUT signs and padlocks were to defeat us in the end.
That, and the fact it was nearly teatime.
To this day, we never got any closer to our dome.
To this day, its purpose remains a mystery.
To this day, we get together for lunch sometimes
And laugh about our Summer Quest.
Ah lovely - love those mysterious quests, I ran away all the way to the very top of the muck hill once myself...
ReplyDeleteDear Argent: no worries! I can feel the sun, to be sure, and my feet sticking to the "gluey tar," the smell of which (the tar, not the feet) one never forgets. And I can see the landscape you paint with words, the familiar and the mysterious. I am also laughing out loud at the "armed with our wits and tepid orange squash" bit, along with "That, and the fact it was nearly teatime."
ReplyDeleteBrilliant, truly a wonderful recollection of summer holidays and yes those journeys you undertook as a child. The explorations...
ReplyDelete"Armed with our wits and tepid orange squash,
Unhindered by the gluey tar of melting roads,
We navigated back-street and waste ground.
Then, through chain-link diamonds, we gazed in wonder.
We had got as close as mere mortals were allowed.
The dome loomed silent over us, forever beyond reach.
This was a place hallowed to Authorised Personnel Only.
KEEP OUT signs and padlocks were to defeat us in the end.
That, and the fact it was nearly teatime."
I love these lines especially armed with our wits and tepid orange squash - so true lol
Niamh - The muck hill? Sounds fabulous! Running up things has been replace by walking up things for me these days.
ReplyDeleteCL - Thanks. My friends swears I left her stranded in the middle of the road when her shoes got stuck and a lorry was coming down the road (I kinda did).
Gwei - Happy days they were too! I'm too timid to venture around liek that these days.
This is very sensory - from the tarry road to the orange crush! You've got the ticket, alright!
ReplyDeleteNow, for the topic. As an adult in the age of technology, you can surely ascertain the purpose of that building...unless that is, it is super-secret shrouded in spyasma (just made that word up). Check it out and let us know!
Tepid orange squash - eww! Heh. Well now I want to know what the dome was? I’m not sure I can manage until I do. What was the address? Would it show up on google earth? Ok, ok – I’ll calm down. I’ll just pretend that it was a salt dome like we have over here…
ReplyDeleteIt is that tepid orange squash that grabbed me too! This is a mysterious memory so fully described that I feel a bit agitated that I can't see the dome! It's marvelous that you still share the memory with your friend all these years later (I hope she/he reads your poem).
ReplyDeleteHahaha...Beautiful description Argent...
ReplyDeleteI liked the opening line very very much "It was the brightest day of the hottest summer ever."I could actually picturize it :)
I know so many such places which had those signboards "Access Prohibited" and we used to stop at those places and think of ways to enter those restricted areas...
This is great :)
Hahaha...Beautiful description Argent...
ReplyDeleteI liked the opening line very very much "It was the brightest day of the hottest summer ever."I could actually picturize it :)
I know so many such places which had those signboards "Access Prohibited" and we used to stop at those places and think of ways to enter those restricted areas...
This is great :)
Karen & Bug - I've done a bit of digging for my dome on the interwebs but it was demolished years ago. I could, I suppose, write to the local paper here - someone might remember it or Maybe British Gas, who owned the site originally will have records of it. I'm sure it was something mundane to do with gas storage/processing. A Tesco supermarket and a football (soccer) stadium is there now.
ReplyDeleteLydia - Thanks. Imagine a huge white golf ball-looking thing - that's what it looked like and sadly is no more.
ET - Childhood curiosity knows no bounds (well, ours did, obviously!). We weren't brave enough to venture in past the fence (even assuming there had been a convenient hole).
I was going to write this in a completely different, sort of experimental way at one point.. "It was brightday of summerhot" etc., but lost my nerve.
for whatever reason i'm not remotely surprised that the ten year old you thought about geodasic shapes. No really.
ReplyDeletegreat pome - i think it is sensory - because you allowed your imagine to provide such a vivid experience. Great stuff
I can relate to that. As a boy I made frequent unsuccessful sorties to our local gas works. Later, as an art student, I was more successful.
ReplyDeleteAhh, those trips- just because! I love that kind of thing even today. "I have been meaning to check out" - and making a side trip,to do just that ! Often they can be a disappointment, or
ReplyDeleteunattainable, like yours...BUT we did it and satisfied our curiosity anyway! Good post-
brilliant, ya! 13 is just the best year for SF. that perfect turn from childhood accepting toward scepticism and looking under the hood.
ReplyDeleteGreat poem.
Wonderful!! Yes, of course this qualifies as a sensory memory: Vision! And what imagery you create in each stanza! I love the 'chain link diamonds.' Many a moment, my childhood friends and I spent, peering through such portholes of imagination. Thank you, Argent!
ReplyDeleteDFTP - I was a weird kid, I admit. Geodesic is such a great word too. Glad you enjoyed the trip.
ReplyDeleteDave - I didn't go out that much as a kid, the Summer Quest was an unusual occurance. I'd be interested to know more about what you got up to as an art sutend.
Izzy - Thanks. We should try and hang onto our spirit of exploration I think, if we can.
NanU - I think SF is just the thing for fostering an inquisitive mindset (or do we like SF BECAUSE we're inquisitive?). I still like to peek under the hood from time to time.
Jeanne Iris - Glad my ticket passed muster :-) There is something in us that wants to see what's being kept behind fences - even now.
Thanks for the lovely comments everyone. And thanks to the Prof for a great ride this week.
Loved it! Read it too fast because I wanted to know what it was.
ReplyDeleteAnd if this isn't sensory, what is;
Armed with our wits and tepid orange squash,
Unhindered by the gluey tar of melting roads,
We navigated back-street and waste ground.
Then, through chain-link diamonds, we gazed in wonder.
?