Song For My Father


I’m working on a poem that describes a typical Saturday in the 70s. My Dad was a man of routine. Hence the poems title. Nothing interrupted the programme. It was a linear journey from A to B, with subroutines that involved a stop-off at the Lit & Phil, Grainger Market and the Fenwick’s department store. In later years an Italian Restaurant replaced the basement Cafeteria, but otherwise the journey remained unchanged.

Repeats v3

The bus journey
down the bottom way.
Backend and downbeat.

We skirt the Tyne
and St Dominic’s;
take in the Castle Keep.

The High Level
and the Stations backside.
At the Lit & Phil we alight.

The statues stranded
In a modern traffic system.
have been adorned.

One reads a newspaper
Another clasps a bottle
of Brown Ale.

Late night revelers
having fun.
Colliding with civic pride.

Cold stone staircase
with portico’s
and marble.

Inside there is wood,
a mezzanine
and busts arranged ala Caesar.

People read papers
at a large oval table,
quiet as mice.

At the serving hatch
there are drinks
and a friendly face.

New Yorker Magazine
and Superman,
and Space Rockets.

Down in the Loftus Room
they keep a Grand Piano
where Swan demonstrated Electric Light.

From the Lit & Phil
through Pudding Chare
and then The Big Market.

Women’s Wear.

At Grainger Street
Repeat, repeat.

At Grainger Market
there is a bookstore
that he browses.

A Marx & Spencer
Penny Bazaar.
A butcher hanging meat.

On to Blacket Street
and into fenwicks
at the side.

In the basement
there is a self-service

At the checkout
he flirts
with a black haired woman.


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