Shelter

My Mini Tri Challenge has been going well and fund raising shows that since the total raised now stands at £3665 and that is very pleasing. Number 23 was completed this morning which makes it 30% done and that is very satisfying too. Fingers, eyes and legs crossed, I can report that I am feeling fine apart from a being little bit more tired than usual and that I am starving hungry most of the time.
The two offerings today are the result of my attempt to stick out a whole evening at poetry and book reading evening last night. It was originally set to be in a theatre and was changed then to a studio and finally to a bar in the theatre. I don't go in bars very often but that is not to say that I don't enjoy a glass or two of wine with a meal. This evening was on a sweltering summer evening in an upstairs room into which the sunlight was pouring. There was a room full of people that I did not know and I was alone. I thought I was going to pass out and make a scene but thankfully I made it to the interval when I made my getaway. By the time I got home I was sweating in an unladylike fashion, my ears were ringing horrendously and I was glad that Steve presented me with a large strawberry ice cream to cool me down.

Panic 

Panic

Floods my being

Hearing the buzz and seeing

The group of people gathered there

In the theatre bar to where

I now feel I have mistakenly come

By my normal measure and rule of thumb 

Panic

Almost has me on the run

There is no way I will find this fun

Torturous feeling have taken hold

Hidden at the back not comfortable in this fold 

Panic

In case somebody comes over to talk

If I see one coming I’ll run not walk

Stay for a while and give it a chance

Dare I look up and catch a glance

 

 

Shelter

I am just a child

Not much more than a toddler

Where I sleep is in what they call

The front room.

My bed almost fills the room,

An old standard issue iron air raid shelter.

Upstairs I have a room where I can play

My toys are there

The bed is not made up, bare.

Once I am bathed

And in my flannelette nightie

Mother pulls the blackout curtains

And lights the gas fire

Turns it down low for a while

She must turn it off later

When she goes to bed.

Sometimes I hear the siren

It goes off in the night

Mr. and Mrs. Taylor live next door

I hear them through the adjoining wall

He shouts very loudly to his wife.

“The bombs is droppin’ mother

Have to go down to the shelter”.

“What d’ya say”? She shouts back

Her voice all trembly.

“The bombs is dropping mother,

THE BOMBS IS DROPPIN’.

The bombs were dropping.

My mum and brother

Have come downstairs

They get in bed with me

We all cuddle each other

That bit is nice.

My dad isn’t there,

He is a soldier,

A sergeant in the army.

He comes home sometimes.

I wake again and they have left

And its quiet.