Scars Left Behind

Remembering the days of yesteryear when family ties were held most dear, gas lamps flickered in the back street while most of us danced a different beat. Tragic alleyways of smog and smut “Live over the brush”* branded a sl*t, silhouettes infringe the darkest night gullible back shift broke the morning light. Adventurous nights at “Townhead Mill” eight pints of beer the back porch thrill, when no meant yes in rapturous skill to fumigated music from “Nashville.” Obnoxious libertine this bread man bay curtain drawn delivery van, the situation conspired indiscretion clinical the world’s oldest profession. Sporting gentlemen in summer bliss caught first ball costly night on the piss, pavilion home to moorside drover many a chaste maiden bowled over. Partial pilgrimage down “Bolton Road” black and amber heroes round ball code, liniment buoyant throughout the room manly skills embroider the village groom. Cardinal days steeped in “Rock ‘n’ Roll” sire in fear of them out of control, a colossal wedge between cultures in shadows of decency vile vultures. Repetitious days of school yard might the bullies reduced one’s life to plight, parents queried yet misunderstood reasons for mayhem in the neighbourhood. Lad and lasses lost in “Hide and seek” games of “Stroke a back” every week, by the old school grounds we all did laik** now the street is naked for heaven sake. Why on earth would a mind keep drifting back this poetry constantly placing me on track, when life was a role without fame or stars only toil and trepidation and these scars? © Harry J Horsman 2013 *Living in sin ** Play