Hello Poetry Lovers
Thought I’d put a nice summery picture on here from 2017.
I admit I’m not actually eating sardines there in that Regents Park Cafe, however, Trisha Broomfield’s marvellous piece Sardines for Supper brought them back to me so sharply.
It’s funny how these supposedly functional ways of living affect us. When I go to Tesco, I literally flock to their tinned mackrel, tuna and yes, sardines. Giving me mixed childhood memories about fish for tea. I loved it and hated it.
Not only that, we’ve all seen customers like this.
I found this poem poignant, vivid and that it said such a lot about us.
Sardines for Supper
Walking, tottering, muttering
wool hat wearing, trolley propping
Pavement parking, (two wheels on)
post office queuing,
Whispering, grumbling, mumbling,
Stacks of cans tumbling, split tomatoes
rolling in the aisles,
short change counting
‘I’m sorry I’m a penny short
read that for me will ya’ ducks?’
White faced, wrinkle clad
faded gazes, flat shoed, bunion toed;
in their baskets tinned soup, gold top milk
sardines for supper,
and a slab of chocolate to last the week.
I stand behind, count their items,
this is an express till!
I peer at labels, promise I will never be like that
rummage for my glasses,
complain that salmon has gone up
since last week.
My turn to place my purchases,
sardines for supper
and slab of chocolate to last me the week.
Trisha Broomfield 2011
Wasn’t that just terrific?! Thank you so much, Trisha. Such a moving piece. I’m afraid, however, you have set Dobby off
She is now expecting – you’ve guessed it – sardines for tea….
Thank you for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon with more poetry antics