Its a sad story about a motorway.
In the springtime of our journey
long before our use-by-date
there were many carefree moments
by the old M-eight.
From the scheme across the banking
through the twisted wooden gate
just to view the cars that sped
along the old M-eight.
Playing “who can get a wave-back”
playing “spot the number plate”
we were never bored or sad
with the old M-eight.
There were grass slides in the Summer
in the Winter we would skate
on the oily water drained
from the old M-eight.
When the tarmac ribbon shimmered
and the fumes could suffocate
was the time to chicken run
cross the old M-eight.
We stood by like railway children
as you stumbled to your fate
below the city-linker
on the old M-eight.
Through the blurry tears of childhood
when the hour’s getting late
through my mum’s bedroom window
Glows the old M-eight
In the endless silver headlights
as the tail lights elongate
I am sure I see your ghost
On the old M-eight
Oli 21/04/08
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Written by coosh (822 comments posted) 21st April 2008 |
| Great last verse. Interesting how a mass of faceless tarmac takes on a certain aura through nostalgia and the stories attached to it. My Dad was a navvy on the M8, so I heard fair number of small tales which contributed to its colourful history. Engaging rhythm to this, and the haunting resonance of the content/images of the last verse enhances the impact. Enjoyed very much. |
Shivers!
Written by Katanga (729 comments posted) 21st April 2008 |
This has a beautiful casual innocence towards the beginning and a natural unforced style, but somehow one anticipates the horror to come.
The phrase 'the old M-eight' is made by the word 'old' - it has such an ironically affectionate ring to it. Compare 'Old Man River' and 'Old Father Time'. And clever use of all the different prepositions.
There is still, despite the irony, a powerful sense that the writer feels a strong and deep affection for 'the old M-eight', even though it killed his friend, because they shared so much earlier happiness there.
Anyway, I think is superb and look forward to more!
Cheers! John
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Written by Brett (485 comments posted) 21st April 2008 |
A marvellous piece of writing, and I agree with coosh regarding the final verse. The memories I have of playing such daft games made my skin the further I read.
Cheers |
Written by Phil (6393 comments posted) 21st April 2008 |
Like all well written pieces of nostalgia, verse or otherwise, this has the power to become more than just your memory - it becomes almost a shared experience. I had a bit of a shiver at the end. It seems very simple but is very effective - probably the secret of good poetry.
I'm not demeaning this by the following comment, as I thought it excellent.
Scotland (I think!) has a great history of folk poetry and that's probably why there's still many a Scot with a liking for country music. I've a distant cousin in Dunfirmline, who last I knew, used to hitch his ageing Lada to a fence post at the local hospital and go play country tunes on the hospital radio. Anyway, I could imagine this as Scottish style country number.
Not for the first time, your poetry hits the spot.
Phil |
Written by Merioneth (79 comments posted) 25th April 2008 |
Did you really have a friend that died on the M-Eight?
Regardless, this poem is very good, and the last verse is haunting (no pun intended) and resonant.
~Meri |
Brilliant!
Written by Katanga (729 comments posted) 27th April 2008 |
I've just thought, while trawling through the recent GW postings. that this deserves a lot of attention - it still moves me on the sixth or seventh reading! I agree 100% with Merioneth above - have a look at her stuff, which is superb!
Cheers! John |
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