Get Your Premium Membership


 They have vanished, the pop men with their varnished crates

Of Tizer and dandy, American ice-cream soda and one percent shandy.
The clunk of frothy quarts dumped on donkey-stoned doorsteps Is heard no more, nor the neighs of restless mares between the shafts.
The shining brass of harness hangs in bar-rooms or droops From imitation beams.
Gelded stallions no longer chomp and champ In stalls beneath the slats of shadowed lofts with straw-bales And hay-ricks as high as houses lazing in lantern light.
The ashes of the carts they pulled have smouldered into silence, The clatter over cobbles of iron shoes and shouts of “Whoa, lass!” Hushed in this last weariness.

Poem by Barry Tebb
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - A MEMORY AT SIXTYEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

More Poems by Barry Tebb

Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on A MEMORY AT SIXTY

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem A MEMORY AT SIXTY here.

Commenting turned off, sorry.