Further Family Stories Recited

BLOTTED OUT He loved,but could not say such words,he could not find; He loved,but could not touch such warmth,was just too much; He was proud,but could not praise such sounds he could not raise; He supported,but not with words such feelings,witheld unheard; Sentiment,tight reined close within banished, unvoiced by him, embittered by his own hurt, a scarred child 'neath his hairshirt. In that distant past,crippled emotions lay imprisoned,unsaid,'til his dying day. BUCKINGAM LACE Sussanah,my great grandma,times three, a pillow puffed up on her knee;with daughter Ann in cobbled Cowfair,daily shaped their homespun ware.In such humble women,dwelt a rare and dextrous art.Fashioned out,stitch by stitch,pillowed patterns ,so rich.Tinkling bobbins , bewildering skill,inch by inch grew the intricate frill.Twisting threads in pairs and groups,knitted together as interlocking loops.Their town craft then, of world renown .Plain or old point hand made lace,lost foever with no longer a trace COWFAIR TO ANCHORAGE We left our abode in old Cowfair,haggled a price for an old shire mare.Onto the landlord's canal boat,lock stock and barrel for a life afloat.Farewell to our Buckingham birthplace ,a meagre living from old point lace.Dawdled up to Cosgrove, meals around a blackened stove.This moveable house painted castle and rose, a life we would not have chose.Eighteen fifties harsh and mean, cargo of coal, nothing stayed clean.Doff your cap,touch your forelock at the gatekeeper's lock. Food scarce except for or fish,perch , roach a staple dish.Clothes drying on a line,home for a time whilst the toddlers were young.As numbers increased and grew ,places to sleep, all too few.Family life became impossibly hard ,so back again to a tied cottage in Aylesbury's Anchorage yard. Listen to me read these poems at youtube under the name ichthys