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Poetry Pleases: Not Very P.C.

India and Africa have come to our street
Vibrant and vivid and warm and unique...

Joyce Worsfold brings us a vibrant and optimistiuc poem.

A buttery-gold day
Doorstep hot as new baked bread
Children play in nurses’ outfits
Bearing big red crosses
Dolls, gollywogs and bears
Swathed in bandages.

Curly Sam comes from down the street
Our garden a rough sort of place to meet
Girdling our prefab with dandelions and daisies
And above it all a skylark praises.
Christopher rides on his rusty three wheeler
Susan skates and swirls, a real crowd pleaser
Maureen skips, chanting loud
‘Little fatty doctor, how’s your wife?
Very well, thank you that’s all right,
She can’t eat a bit o’ fish
Or a bit o’ liquorice.
O.U.T spells…….

Sudden stillness,
Everything stops!
Two strange people glide along
Even the birds have stilled their song.
Two men like none we’ve ever seen
One with skin so black with glorious sheen
Tall as a giant with the straightest of backs
Carrying carpets, made into a sacks.
The other as brown as treacle toffee, sweet
With an enormous hat and no socks on his feet.

Our hearts thudded
We all stood still
Eyes wide open and watched our fill.

Then the click of Maureen’s gate, at the door they knock
Maureen’s Mum stands there, speechless with shock
Then the bags are opened and rainbows revealed
As fabrics are flaunted , unfurled and unveiled.
Opulent organzas, shimmering silks
Purple satins, some white as milk,
Magenta and orange, turquoise and peach.
Maureen stretches her hand just to reach.

India and Africa have come to our street
Vibrant and vivid and warm and unique
Abundant, exquisite, exuberant and splendid
The world that was broken, might one day be mended.


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