scarecrow poetics/essays

1

We begin here. Here we begin -
The modern age with all its novel twists.
We may have been sixties born,
But believe me, when I say it is,
The next decade that made the man -
For seven was my lucky number,
Once over thirty years ago -
At three years old, unaware of what went on,
Tied ribbons round old oak trees.

2

My granddad smoked like Harold Wilson,
Spittle at the cornermouth.
The farm was, by then, on its uppers
Both the sons got civvy jobs.
The milk round in the old Ford van,
As canvassers from all three parties,
Shuttled round the dirty streets,
Promising a new beginning;
And giving us Ted Heath.

3

Paul broke them up, wrote the note,
Placed the dagger between the ribs,
Made his own not so primal scream.
The sixties it seems were over,
The mini skirt had grown an inch,
We weren't ready for the midi -
The Sun showed us Stephanie Rahn,
Fallen from her cheesecloth top,
Sex went mainstream; we buttoned up.

4

Monika Dannemann sips champagne
With her Hendrix - earlier Shanklin
Shuddered with thousands to his squall -
It, he, they were over, promotion to
The great gig in the sky.
Is always poets dying young,
As if they know, how fragile life is.
My earliest memory, I have forgotten it,
But even now I recall the song.

5

The yellow shirts were out in force,
And in the heat of Mexico,
The pale-face Englishmen were beat,
By a greater force than heat.
Allison Krause, 19, Jeffrey Glen Miller, 20
Sandra Lee Scheuer, 20,
William Knox Schroeder, 19,
At Kent State in May,
They never saw the ball game,

6

They sang! The singers sang!
Smoked hashish at Glastonbury Tor,
Grew their hair just so long.
"Nixon in his counting house
Counting loads of money
Reneged on his promises
Cambodia was quite funny."
The modern age begins here,
Begins here, with our sins.

7

I played on the unkempt lawn.
My sister gurgled in the pram.
We had our first telephone put in.
The power strikes of winter
Sent us running for the candles.
I doubt my parents had chance
Or time to watch Ali McGraw -
Not burning at both ends,
But making candles meet.

Adrian Slatcher © 2006.

Adrian Slatcher is co-editor of a poetry and fiction magazine, Lamport Court, and has published a number of poems and short stories in various magazines over the last few years. He is based in Manchester, where he studied on the MA in Novel Writing at the University of Manchester. He was born in Walsall in 1967. A previous "e-book" of his poetry, "The Market is Second Hand Poems" was published in 2002. Copies of "2004" can be obtained for "£3.00" payable to Adrian Slatcher, from 1 Victoria Grove, Fallowfield, Manchester, M14 6BF. Or email adrian.slatcher@gmail.com for further details.