Benjamin Posted January 25, 2013 Share Posted January 25, 2013 The rectory had garden gnomes on view for one and all. Some of them with balding domes were nearly two feet tall. Who pierced the soil with spade and fork in old blue bib and braces. Diligently at their work with silent weathered faces. 2 Others sat around a toadstool laughing, playing cards; supping ale to keep them cool from little stony jars. One-- was collapsed on his back: another-- bent and sly, dealt cards out from a dodgy pack, his winnings piled up high. 3 The clergyman: a crafty bloke, none of that blood and thunder; always had a laugh and joke and never mentioned Sunday. Let us at his apple trees to pillage there at will; while he stood watching patiently, until our bags were filled. 4 He'd bring us ice-cold lemonade before we trudged off home; and tell short stories in the shade relating to each gnome. And it didn't seem like he was preaching: for he'd such a tactful way, that made you feel the gnomes were teaching, while he enjoyed the day. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dcmarti1 Posted January 25, 2013 Share Posted January 25, 2013 Oh, please tell me this IS memory and not fantasy! So glad you added the word "gentle" in the title. Great use of assonance in cards and jars, and Sunday and thunder. Sneaky bounder..... And the line "pillage there at will": clever. I hope I do not sound like a Maudlin Marti, but this is a sweet poem without sounding like a greeting card. Bravo. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted January 25, 2013 Share Posted January 25, 2013 A charming 'tale' B. enjoyed badge Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dedalus Posted January 26, 2013 Share Posted January 26, 2013 Puffing on his pipe, old Bilbo turned to Frodo .... Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted January 26, 2013 Author Share Posted January 26, 2013 From my childhood memories of when rural early 1950's England was a very different world. The Vicarage was a large detached house with a tennis court at the rear-- and poplar trees that separated its grounds from the tall reeds of a river bank. At the front, a well kept garden was populated by unusual (for that time) large and expensive garden gnomes. The front of the house was masked from the road by horse chestnut trees (not apple); where my ragamuffin friends and I would throw heavy sticks to dislodge conkers--- a small boy's treasure. We never met the clergyman but understood the morality of the garden gnomes. The house was one of several in a prime location for the well-off. We rarely attended church as kids, unless at school, and were always conscious of a Victorian attitude that still prevailed among the educated: both in schools, and also with most of the better off at that time. The house is still there-- though the area is built-up with neat “semis” now. I don't know whether it still belongs to the church these days. I rarely visit my home town, then only to tend my parents' grave in the cemetery, which is only a few hundred yards past the the old house. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dedalus Posted January 26, 2013 Share Posted January 26, 2013 I would say the past grows larger in our minds as we descend into it ... a bit morbid, forsooth! I can remember Dublin City in short pants which actually came down to your knees in those days and were tied up with a colourful belt with an "S" clasp and you had raggedy much-mended grey floppy socks called stockings. And you had a school cap and a blazer with a crest on the pocket. God be with the days, as me Nana used to say, and she was born in 1890. Oh, would you look, I'm one post ahead of you with 585 to your 584! Hand over that conker. Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted January 26, 2013 Author Share Posted January 26, 2013 No chance-- I liked to bake 'em hard! Also had a tri-colour "snake" belt and recall having to wear short pants until we were 13yrs old in a boys only school. That wouldn't go down well today. My parents were a product of the early 20th century; of 1920s and 1930s austerity who experienced war in the 1940s that made many of their generation question the social, ideological and spiritual. I look back at my own life, particularly the 1960s and wonder how the next generation will evolve bearing in mind our present set of woes, for we seem to be in reverse mode just now. I wonder if they'll have cyber-gnomes. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dedalus Posted January 26, 2013 Share Posted January 26, 2013 Never mind the next generation. What have they ever done for us? Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
fdelano Posted January 27, 2013 Share Posted January 27, 2013 Our neighbor is Chinese. He has a large yard and garden with stone gnomes placed, I'm sure, in special or traditional ways. All we have are drawings of gnomes, so we likely have only thin protection. Funny thing is that the Chinese guy and family celebrate American holidays with vigor, perhaps because he has a successful restaurant in town. Or maybe he's just an American patriot. Inscrutable, indeed! My own early years were filled by fire and brimstone from the Southern Baptist Churches in the Cotton Mather style. Hell was a creditable threat against the natural ways of adolescents and teens. And then there was the Great Depression. Geoff, is there thick Irish blood in your English veins? Enjoyed the poem. Everyone takes away a unique effect. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted January 28, 2013 Author Share Posted January 28, 2013 No Irish blood Franklin...French..my father's family migrated here but I've always had a fondness for traditional Irish songs and music. G. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
fdelano Posted January 31, 2013 Share Posted January 31, 2013 I thought I liked Irish music/ballads until I listened to Brendan and pals in their drunken wails from hell. (Just kidding, Bren.) It's very strange to me that music, especially bagpipes, can stop me in my tracks. I do believe in genetic memory. If ever I hear Taps played on the pipes, the water wells in my eyes always. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted January 31, 2013 Author Share Posted January 31, 2013 One of the best exponents of the Irish or uillian pipes is Finbar Furey whom I met a couple of times. In more recent years I enjoyed his singing of "The Red Rose Cafe" which is on YouTube. The pipes don't feature but a more continental appeal is achieved with the help of a squeezebox. Irish bands have enjoyed much success on mainland Europe particularly Germany. Another facet of the Irish bid for world domination perhaps.... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted February 24, 2013 Share Posted February 24, 2013 I've never been a fan of the garden gnome, but that's not to say I don't like some kitschier things. And at least the gnomes are well crafted, not like those mass-produced, giant inflatable football players, snowmen, and santa clauses that appear in peoples' front yards at the expected times each year. I enjoyed the poem and the ensuing discussion. Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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