Homework July: Spectacles Rosy Yet Real

[Catherine Lee]

Spectacles Rosy Yet Real

I miss those times of innocence when simple pleasures reigned,
when fear appeared less paramount, corruption less ingrained,
entitlement a view that hardly ever was expressed,
respect seemed more in evidence and manners were possessed.
The days we’d freely play outside till twilight came and went,
then take the time to wonder at the starry firmament
before we all sat down together as a family
to eat our evening meal and talk, then watch some comedy;
the afternoons we’d pod the peas or cut the tempting fruit
that soon became preserves or jam – that scent remains acute.

I miss that child who waited with a thrilled expectancy
as needle kissed the vinyl in a scratchy symphony,
erupting then with poetry and song, or fairy tales
from realms of fictional delight where happiness prevails.
I’d sing along to musicals until my voice was hoarse,
recite the jokes and poems from that plentiful resource.
I loved those quiet hours at home when leisure time was mine,
to focus on piano practice, scrapbooks, writing rhyme;
the stimulating games we played, new worlds conceived and themed -
those streets one day we’d yearn for with a passion yet undreamed.

I also liked how progress seemed to move at slower pace,
before this swift advance of tech now sweeping to erase.
The heavy phone with manual dial - how could we comprehend,
imagine seeing faces on a screen the other end?!
The ringing of a register, the chiming wind-up clock,
the picnics, car drives, time spent watching ships cruise into dock.
The daily post that brought surprises - news from overseas,
plus birthday cards and parcels that would always charm and please;
then carefully replying with precise and steady script,
or typing on an old machine with carbon tightly gripped.

The overwhelming glee of Friday pocket money treats,
which bought not just one bonbon but a swollen bag of sweets!
Those old encyclopedias, where every single page
held mysteries and histories to fascinate, engage.
The Sally Army Christmas truck we’d chase along the road,
uplifted by the rousing brass as carols overflowed;
enchanting stockings on the bed when Santa Claus had been,
revealing special treasures and surprises unforeseen.
The flower shows, the local fetes, the joyful Sunday bells,
and trips to beaches, marveling at rockpool life and shells.

I miss those carefree years when youthful bliss was at its prime,
lament the way the world is losing balance in this time.
A few would try to taint our views with fanciful offence,
attacking books and characters with venom that’s intense,
insulting our intelligence by daring to deduce
some changes should be made to works by Blyton, Dahl and Seuss!
Inflexible minorities attempt to rule the way
we think, the things we read or watch, and even what we say.
The train has left the rails, on tracks some people cannot see -
there’s anger, vile division, and acute hypocrisy.

Of course, not all was rosy then – and yet it seems to me
that people acted kinder and with more humility,
that those with happy childhoods shared a gift beyond compare -
of doubt and insecurity were largely unaware.
So mutiny now lies within at all they would instill,
for swallowing such nonsense would be foolish, bitter pill.
They’ll not receive my acquiescence, taint my memories;
I’ll keep the movies, books, and jokes that never fail to please.
They will not rule my speech, nor ruin songs with lyrics new,
eliminate my humour with their grim, distorted view.

They will not steal the beauty, smirch the purity of youth,
when characters I loved could not be slandered as uncouth!
Determinedly I’ll hold to what I know is common sense.
I see no need to argue - feel no need to plead defense.
Those happy times helped shape my life and who I am today -
the little girl remains within, she didn’t go away.
The adult might look patient, but I cling to her inside,
that spirit of the child I’ll not allow to be denied.
And if they say I’m merely old, dismiss me out of hand,
I’ll smile with pity, simply say, “You’ll never understand.”

© Catherine Lee, July 2023

[Terry]

Hi Catherine

You certainly put a lot of thought into this lovely poem,
and touched on the many changes that have taken place since your childhood,
and as you say not in your or MY opinion always for the best, in fact in my view in many ways we have taken a giant step backwards.
I come from an even more distant (should I say ancient) era than you, and changes are even more pronounced from my childhood days.
It seems to me the moment we start to get close to a reasonable way of life - our great leaders want to change it and usually mees things up.

By the way CONGRATULATIONS on your BRONZE SWAGMAN win.

Terry

[Catherine Lee]

Ah, thank you so much, Terry. Well, it began as just a list of a few items I missed but then I couldn't help but switch into the mode of how I feel about all these changes over time - but that's the way it is with me lately and I agree with you 100%! Tech is a double-edged sword, and respect and common sense are fighting to survive, and if anyone tells me I can't watch or read something I'm far more likely to go the opposite way rather than have them tell me what to do I'm sure I could have gone on and on, but it was already coming close to one of my rants about the state of the world in general, ha! Thank you so much for your always welcome feedback, and also for your warm congratulations on the Bronze Swagman, which I really appreciate - I am just so thrilled about winning this!

[Ron]

Hi Catherine,
Loved your poem, it certainly is a superbly versed summation of the changes that have taken place over the years, and as mentioned not always for the best!
And I, like you, get my back up when told what we can and cannot do, and in particular when it comes from minority groups, many of whom want us to rewrite history!
A well thought out poem that covered so much.
A big CONGRATULATIONS from me also on your Bronze Swagman award, well done!

Cheers
Ron.

[Catherine Lee]

Thank you so much, Ron. Yes, it is a crazy world at the moment and I too often find myself sitting here literally just shaking my head at the apparent insanity of certain things on the News, thinking "what new madness is this?!" I know each generation needs "their turn" so to speak, but I am stunned at the appalling aggression and division that's on display today, plus the fact that certain things are even considered worthy of discussion!.. On a much more positive note, my sincere thanks to you also for your Congratulations on the Bronze Swagman - I am so much looking forward to holding this trophy in my hands!

[Gary Harding]

Spectacles Rosy Yet Real

Catherine, I started to read this work as a poem and then I changed my mind, stopped, went back to the start and read it more as flowing prose, making no attempt to capture any meter and just letting the rhyme fade naturally into the background. That worked well.

What you were saying then came over quite clearly and was interesting. I presume much of your youthful activity was based in Christchurch, seeing ships dock.. but I may be wrong there? I don't know.

It was biographical, giving precious insight into your life ... with its occasional parallels to my own youthful experiences allowing me to relate. It also sets out to (very effectively) contrast the past and today's world where the power of minorities is disproportionate and where minds are readily propagandised and controlled (and brainwashed) through screens of various sorts. I think that you can find yourself holding an opinion or belief you never knew you had, not based on reasoning but because some screen told you it was so... and the mind is sometimes too lazy to question.

I agree with you that it is a selfish and sometimes evil world today with no Patriotism whatsoever. The big benefit is medical science.. and I would rather be sick today with its knowledge and technology, than 50 or 60 years ago! Suntans were encouraged then of course, and coconut oil applied, merely helped one fry quicker.

It is good to be able to look back sentimentally as you do here .. and have cherished memories that are pleasant. (I try and forget the other type!)
The philosophy of not changing one's own attitudes and values to suit any modern devious agenda that others attempt to force on you is admirable.

They’ll not receive my acquiescence, taint my memories;
I’ll keep the movies, books, and jokes that never fail to please.
They will not rule my speech, nor ruin songs with lyrics new,
eliminate my humour with their grim, distorted view.

But.. I am beginning to talk about the opinions expressed within the poem.. getting distracted by it... and that is not the real point.

IMO a poem is never good or bad simply because the reader may or may not agree with what the poet says. You set that aside. For example... a poem entitled An Ode To The Flat Earth may be technically excellent with its clever expression, rhyme and meter well-crafted... but I would disagree strongly with its unscientific assertion that the Earth is actually flat. BUT...A good poem nevertheless.

Spectacles Rosy Yet Real ... as always your writing takes the reader on an interesting journey with powerful expression that is always so genuine. Your sentiments are True.
A writer reveals so much about their personality in longer poems. It just seems to come out. I cannot get enough of your good writing and look forward to each contribution.

If you can do that, as you always manage to.. I mean write well.... then do not stop!

Creating work like this is so worthwhile... and while it is not a valid argument necessarily, I say it is better than time spent watching TV etc... but then one does need to switch off occasionally I suppose,

Well done, Catherine!

[Catherine Lee]

Thank you so much, Gary, for your always detailed feedback which sometimes makes me consider other aspects of my thought processes in regard to how I wrote it.... You are correct in that trips to the Lyttleton docks were a fun family outing. We would watch the various ships come in and wonder where they were from, what they were bringing and where they were going. One day Mum and Dad were even invited by a couple of the crew to board a Russian ship to enjoy a tour and a bowl of borscht – I wasn’t there as I’d already moved to Australia, and I somehow doubt such an invitation would be extended today!... As for the aspect of a writer's personality you mention, this is also a good point. It is rare that I get overly fired up about something, so if the easygoing amongst us are affected to such a degree I reckon it says something pretty clear about the state of things, as I don’t think I’ve felt this “rebellious” about certain things in today’s world since I was a horrible teenager, ha!... Thank you once again, Gary, for your kind words about my writing!

[Maureen K Clifford]

WOW!!! You have managed to wrangle some amazing rhyming couplets in there Catherine ...well done and I especially liked this one

The days we’d freely play outside till twilight came and went,
then take the time to wonder at the starry firmament

Your words captured images of those times perfectly, some I hadn't thought of for years .... The heavy phone with manual dial, a needle kissed the vinyl in a scratchy symphony,the afternoons we’d pod the peas ....gentler, and more simple times than today, back when we had time to think and reflect whilst doing chores. We were in so many ways a far luckier generation than today's young ones. We kind of matured along the way like a rich fruitcake, taking on strength and colour and good taste rather than being an instant fix, throw in the microwave and eat 15 minutes later experience.

Your poem IMO like a good fruitcake at a CWA run function - has winning properties ... I LOVE IT

[Catherine Lee]

Oh, Maureen, thank you – what truly delightful feedback; you’ve really made me smile today! Yes, those memories thankfully never go away, and I think your choice of the word ‘gentler’ for those times is very apt, because that really is how it feels. It was your prompts that reminded me of the needle on the vinyl and the heavy black phone (guess I could have mentioned the party line but that was a bit of a pain overall, ha!) The twilight time was always such a magical time of day, and having lived in some countries where this doesn’t happen quite the same, I have come to appreciate the memory of it more and more over time.... Love your analogy of the fruitcake, and am thrilled you enjoyed this poem so much – thank you!

[Shelley Hansen]

Absoutely love it, Catherine ... especially this lovely word picture ...

as needle kissed the vinyl in a scratchy symphony,

That's something we share - I have many memories of listening to records in the evening, cementing my early love of music.