South Chingford Autumn 2020

This poem was written as a complement to "South Chingford Spring 2020" to cover the situation half a year on.

Listen to recording
         
              SOUTH CHINGFORD AUTUMN 2020

The blossom’s gone, there’s queues no more,
next masked marauders filled the store.
But depleted shelves soon replenished, our fears to allay,
things largely back to normal, with just the odd delay.
Sometimes with mask and fogged-up glasses, some searches are in vain,
while milk chocolate bar with fruit, fear we’ll never see again.

The ducks are on the pond no more,
but they’ll return next year for sure!
While Love South Chingford  keep things spick and span,
we’re lucky they’re there with their talisman Jan.
And with refurbished courts and outdoor gym brand-new.
Thanks are due to local councillors and the council too!

Most shops were open, then they gave us tiers,
and we upped one, more closures, increasing our fears.
As for the giant yellow crane, she was kept so busy,
building  Centenary House homes, from her height so dizzy,
for company Sixty Bricks. Soon new residents will appear.
Hope they like Chingford when they arrive next year.

Throughout the Summer,  events and activities had free rein.
With exercise, music, and dance to educate and entertain.
Elite sports of all kinds returned to track or pitch or court.
But most behind closed doors, no crowds for real support!
More heroes have appeared as time has long progressed,
like Marcus, and the vaccine teams, whose efforts are the very best.

Sadly, the weekly clap’s no more, the one community highlight dropped.
But for me, and friends and neighbours, our caring has not stopped.
Now too much daytime TV with the irritating commercial breaks,
but suppose it gives me time for lots of tea and cakes!
Often I get the teatime teasers, but I don’t want to go or compare,
 or to sing in a new car, or to purchase  a riser recliner chair!

Library volunteers  work so hard, for building  re-opening to prepare.
But frustrations remain, with so many vulnerable, we must take extra care.
We will survive this, most of us, the lucky ones, but still keep in mind,
so many more lost by now, so tragically, and the grieving left behind.
But, with vaccines now appearing, and first people a jab now done.
We look forward, with renewed hope, to twenty-twenty-one!

                              Richard A. Ashen

                               RETURN TO LIST OF POEMS

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

List of Poems

To read or listen to any poem, just click on its title below A Poem                                                                                           Anon What a Difference a Year Makes                                    Frank L Ashen Being Ninety - - - If only ...                                               Frank L Ashen Eighty Five                                                                           Frank L Ashen Was the Dough Really Kneaded?                                   Frank L Ashen Football and the World Cup                                           Frank L Ashen The Eighties in the Nineties                                            Frank L Ashen Thistledown                                                                        Frank L Ashen Moving into the Nineties                                                  Frank L Ashen Ninety Five                                                                          Frank L Ashen Medication                        
Read more

Mixed Heritage

Teddy O'Hara is the grandson of our community library volunteer Pat Hampshire. A long time ago, he got lost with Granny Pat in the Memorial Park, which is why we call it the Lost Park.  As Teddy was only three at the time, we consider Pat to be mainly responsible for this incident. At the age of twelve, Teddy has written this brilliant poem about his mixed English and Irish Heritage. MIXED HERITAGE   In a land of rolling hills and green, I'm a lad of twelve, as you've seen. With roots that reach from near and far, I'm English and Irish, that's who we are. In my heart two flags unfurl, St. George's cross and the Irish swirl. From London's streets to Dublin's shore, I cherish the cultures that I adore. Love the sound of bagpipes' call, And football matches, we give our all. From Premier League to Gaelic games, Both lands have left their lasting claims. In my veins, the stories run deep, Of kings and queens and legends to keep. The history's rich, t
Read more

Lost Park

This is Teddy O'Hara's description of his experience with "Nana" which resulted in the Chingford Memorial park receiving the nickname "The Lost Park" from the volunteers in South Chingford Community Library.  LOST PARK In the Lost Park , where chaos prevails, Nana and I, navigating funny trails. Nearly ten years on, still lost in our jest, In the Lost Park, where confusion's the best. In the Lost Park, Nana and I strayed, A one-time misstep, where laughter was laid. A tale we share, a chuckle on our lips, In the Lost Park, where our sense of direction slips. All around, Lost Park's the phrase on tongues, Nana's tale, where laughter sprung. A quirky name, a shared remark. In Lost Park, where echoes embark. Teddy O'Hara    January 2024 RETURN TO LIST OF POEMS
Read more