Endless Summer

[NotQuiteSure]

.
v2 (-ish)
Endless Summer


This was then, and of course it was
a different time. A window cracked
was fine for dogs, children - didn't matter
how small they were, nor how hot the day.
Weekends were when the adults played.
Dressed-up, whites commandeering
greens and parks, minutes stretching
into hours: years put to the rack.

My father, smaller than this boy
would want his dad to be. Spinner,
left arm over, deceived more than not.
But there were those deliveries when
the magic failed, the bat connected,
thwok! And a tight-stitched ball would burst
into the pavilion, clatter waiting wives,
warm cake icing, sandwiches: Tea

was women's work in the 1970s.
And I was out beyond the pale, boundary
rope, bored past tears, grimly watching
crabby grasses grow. Before dry eyes
a whole day died. Two innings, interval
and showers, buried - box with pads,
knitted sweaters, thick enough for winter -
in Slazenger and Addidas kit bags.

If you (and by this, I mean your mum)
didn't pack a sandwich, you'd go hungry,
'til, by stumps you'd have had a bellyful
of see-saws, slides and sullen kids
who weren't your mates, weren't your own age -
go and play. Him, he's Mid-offs son
- and the nothingness of time, left
to your own devices. Then, the pub.

You two behave. I'll be back.
Soon.
Just a swift half. No you can't
have the radio on, the battery
will go flat. We won't stay long.
Krooklok set. Just a pint. Ok. Fine.
I'll bring you out a coke. And crisps.
Ice. In a minute. Early start tommorrow.



___________________________




Endless Summer


This was then, and of course it was
a different time. A window cracked
was fine for dogs, children - didn't matter
how small they were, nor how hot the day.
Weekends were when the adults played.
Dressed-up, whites commandeering
greens and parks and stretching minutes
into hours, like heretics on a rack.

My father, smaller than this boy
would want his dad to be. Spinner,
left arm over, deceived more than not.
But there were those deliveries when
the magic failed, the swing connected,
thwok. And a tight-stitched ball would burst
into the pavilion, clattering waiting wives,
warm cake, sandwiches: Tea

was women's work in the 1970s.
And I was out beyond the pale, the boundary
rope, bored past tears, grimly watching
crabby grasses grow. Before dry eyes
a whole day died: two innings, interval
and showers. Buried - box with pads,
knitted sweaters, thick enough for winter -
in leather bags, longer than a linseed-oiled bat.

If you (and by this, I mean your mum)
didn't pack a sandwich, you'd go hungry,
'til, by stumps you'd have had a bellyful,
of see-saws, slides and sullen kids
who weren't your mates, your own age -
go and play with him, he's Mid-offs son
- and the nothingness of time, left
to your own devices. Then, the pub.

No you can't have the radio on,
the battery'll go flat. Krooklok set,
You two sit here. I'll be back.
Soon.
Just have a swift half. Been a long day.
I'll bring you out a coke, and crisps.
Fine. In a minute. Not salt and vinegar.
Just one round. Early start tommorrow.




___________________________



Endless Summer


This was then, and of course it was
a different time. A window cracked
was fine for dogs, children - didn't matter
how small they were, nor how hot the day.
Weekends were when the adults played,
dressed-up, whites commandeering
greens and parks and stretching minutes
into hours, like a heretic on the rack.

My father, smaller than a boy
would want his dad to be, deceived,
left over-arm spin, more oft than not,
but there were those deliveries when
the magic failed, the bat connected,
thwok, and a ball would burst
into the pavilion, clattering wives
and sandwiches, for tea was women's work

in the 1970s. And I was out
beyond the pale, the boundary rope,
bored past tears grimly watching
crabby grass grow. Before my eyes,
eight hours die, two innings, interval,
showers: buried - box with pads,
knit sweaters, thick enough for winter
- in leather bags long as a linseed oiled bat,

grip tacky like seaside rock, in the heat.
If you (and by this, I mean your mum)
didn't pack a sandwich, you'd go hungry,
until, by stumps you'd have had a bellyful,
of swings and slides and stranger's kids -
go and play with. Him, he's Mid-offs son
- and the nothingness of time, left
to your own devices. Then the pub.

No you can't have the radio on,
the battery'll go flat. Krooklok set,
I'll be back.
Soon,
I'll bring you both a coke, and crisps.
Ok. Cheese and onion. Fine.
I won't be long. I won't forget.
Early start tomorrow, we're playing away.





.

[Poet]

Cool piece, nothing much to say about it other than the subtleness of the words.

[twoleftfeet]

Hello,NQS

An interesting poem,deftly put together. Great title,btw!

In S1

I particular like the double use of "whites" as dress/people.

Maybe "adequate" instead of "fine" for the sonics in L3?

L8 - the "heretics on a rack"
- would be better if it was "torturers with a rack",imo - the subject is the one doing the "stretching (minutes into hours..". Your call.

In S2
- exclamation mark after after "thwok", maybe even "THWOK!" ?
Nice enjambment with "Tea".

In S4
- Is the comma after "bellyful" necessary?

In S5
- You originally ended with "We're playing away" which gelled nicely with the earlier "deceived".
I'm curious to know why you changed it?

Overall,it's an intriguing read - I'm still unsure if N even has a mother or if he he has,did she make him a sandwich? (seems unlikely..). Was she among the wives in the pavilion?

The only thing I'm certain of is that I'd like N's dad to be fielding at square leg when a hefty batsman is hammering the bowlers!

[NotQuiteSure]

.
Hi T,
thanks for the read.

An interesting poem,deftly put together. Great title,btw!
Thank you.

In S1 - I particular like the double use of "whites" as dress/people.
Well, it is England in the 70s
Maybe "adequate" instead of "fine" for the sonics in L3?
I like the 'time/line' pairing. Not sure about cracked/adequate.
Maybe good enough for dogs ... ?
L8 - the "heretics on a rack"
- would be better if it was "torturers with a rack",imo - the subject is the one doing the "stretching (minutes into hours..". Your call.
But it's the minutes being stretched. Will have to ponder. But 'heretic' is supposed to lead to 'beyond the pale'.

In S2 - exclamation mark after after "thwok", maybe even "THWOK!" ?
Thought about it (!), wasn't sure. Thanks for the nudge.
Nice enjambment with "Tea".


In S4 - Is the comma after "bellyful" necessary?
No. Always comma happy, me. Will fix. Thanks.

In S5 - You originally ended with "We're playing away" which gelled nicely with the earlier "deceived". I'm curious to know why you changed it?
Because of that.
[Original ending:
I won't be long. I won't forget.
Early start tomorrow, we're playing away.]
There are all sorts of little deceptions going on, and that one seemed to be(come) too prominent, and the ending wasn't working rhythmically or conversationally (for me). The newer version, I think, better returns the piece to the title. Also considering this
No you can't have the radio on,
the battery'll go flat. Krooklok set,
You two sit tight. A swift half. I'll be back.
Soon.
It's been a long day. Won't stop.
Fine. A coke, and crisps. No fighting.
Cheese and onion. Just one round
and then. Away, tomorrow. Early start.

Happy to hear alternative suggestions though.

Overall,it's an intriguing read - I'm still unsure if N even has a mother or if he he has,did she make him a sandwich? (seems unlikely..). Was she among the wives in the pavilion?
Are you sure you want to know
(But, if you're going for the infidelity reading of 'playing away', wouldn't that suggest a wife?)

The only thing I'm certain of is that I'd like N's dad to be fielding at square leg when a hefty batsman is hammering the bowlers!
Now, now.

Thanks again,

regards ¬


.

[twoleftfeet]

Hii again NQS,

I like the 'time/line' pairing

.
Yeah,as you were - I didn't spot the half-rhyme!


wrt the "heretics" lines,
Although I can see your reasoning (at a stretch ),I think something like "our minutes" would help to
differentiate the child's impression from that of the players.Just my opinion.,

I think I prefer the new,toned-down version - less edgy but clearer..
Also,now there's no hint of hanky-panky - maybe "grown-ups" instead of "adults"?

I may have to consider allowing N's dad a helmet at square-leg,at this rate..No box,though

T

[JamesM]

Hello there
A lot to like here.
S1. Heretic isn't quite correct: non-believer/uncoverted - blends nicely with the ball strike for six.
S2. ..left arm over...hmmm. Thwok in italics with or without exclamation. Would prefer a metafor to ..tight stitched ball...

S2. Just beyond the pale would suffice without ...boundary.
The died/buried section is a little awkward to parse.

S3. You edited the original...I really liked the ..Go play. Him...

S4. Ties nicely with S1, though thought at first you had been left in the car for the duration at first.
Enjoyable
Regards

[NotQuiteSure]

.
Hi T,
thanks for returning.

I like the 'time/line' pairing

.
Yeah,as you were - I didn't spot the half-rhyme!

Tsk. Tsk.

wrt the "heretics" lines,
Although I can see your reasoning (at a stretch ),I think something like "our minutes" would help to differentiate the
child's impression from that of the players.Just my opinion.,
Something like this?
Dressed-up, whites commandeering
greens and parks, stretching my minutes
into hours, like a heretic on the rack.
I'm not convinced, but will ponder.

I think I prefer the new,toned-down version - less edgy but clearer..
Also,now there's no hint of hanky-panky - maybe "grown-ups" instead of "adults"?
Once I had 'dressed-up' I decided to change 'grown-ups' to 'adults', too many 'ups'. Any ideas?

I may have to consider allowing N's dad a helmet at square-leg,at this rate..No box,though
Have I struck a nerve?



Hi James,
thanks for the read and critique.
(reposted the original (I think) for contrast).

S1. Heretic isn't quite correct: non-believer/uncoverted - blends nicely with the ball strike for six.
I was trying to allude to N being a 'non-believer' about (the virtues, if any of) cricket.

S2. ..left arm over...hmmm.
One bowls over or around the wicket. Or was there something else?

Th ok in italics with or without exclamation. Would prefer a metafor to ..tight stitched ball...
Hmm. Any ideas? All I've got are Tristan's angry boils as the moment but will think.

S2. Just beyond the pale would suffice without ...boundary.
Wasn't sure. Thanks for the confirmation. Slightly tweaked that line, howzat?

The died/buried section is a little awkward to parse.
I know, still working on that

S3. You edited the original...I really liked the ..Go play. Him...
Was doubting it was sufficiently clear (after died/buried) will reinstate. Thanks.

S4. Ties nicely with S1, though thought at first you had been left in the car for the duration at first.
It's still not there yet, but closer, I think.


Thanks both.

Regards, Not


.

[JamesM]

Hello there
My doubts about heretic were based on your reference to beyond the pale. The saying does not refer to religious difference more beyond the cultural/administrative control of the powers that be...
I understood your intention and at a push might fit but heretic/pale is not an exact match.
I'll have a read of the new version now.
Regards

[NotQuiteSure]

.
Hi James,
valid doubts, of course. And no, not an exact match. Happy to take an alternative, especially if they'll get me where I want to go. But I'll stick with pale - there's a (weak) joke there, sort of. The pale being, etymologically, 'stakes, props, wooden posts, or, for my purposes "stumps". A bit of a stretch (apologies) perhaps, but it amused me.


Regards, Not


.

[David]

A late change of bowler here, Not. Right arm, around the wicket, nothing special ...

Endless Summer, to me, will always be a Beach Boys compilation album. But it can be this too, I suppose. It is, as Geoff says, a clever title.

I think the "heretics on a rack" image is itself (sorry) quite a tortured simile. Ditch the simile would be my advice.

And I thought I'd detected from one of Geoff's comments an undercurrent of marital infidelity, but I don't seem to see it in the latest version.

I'm a bit confused by your bilocation - in the car (?) in S1, then wandering free in S3, but maybe you just got out. (Agh. Totally unintentional cricket pun.)

But you catch the misery of an uncongenial afternoon well. I've been that boy, almost tearful with boredom, in the dim and distant past.

Cheers

David

[NotQuiteSure]

.
Hi David,

thanks for the read and comments, especially 'ditch the rack'.

That led to:
greens and parks, minutes stretching
into hours, and hours into
or maybe a bit more petulant
greens and parks, minutes stretching
into hours, and hours, and hours.
but then
into hours. Summer on the rack.
Any thoughts?

And I thought I'd detected from one of Geoff's comments an undercurrent of marital infidelity, but I don't seem to see it in the latest version.
Inadvertent wide.

I'm a bit confused by your bilocation - in the car (?) in S1, then wandering free in S3, but maybe you just got out. (Agh. Totally unintentional cricket pun.
Unintentional, so you say!
The 'window' is setting up the final verse. Or trying to.

But you catch the misery of an uncongenial afternoon well.
Thank you.
I've been that boy, almost tearful with boredom, in the dim and distant past.
Never leaves you, does it?


Regards, Not


.

[JamesM]

Well, I did suggest 'unconverted' as an alternative to 'heretics'.

[NotQuiteSure]

.
Hi James.

Indeed you did sir.
I have been dithering over 'non-believers' (un-converted sent me off to Rugby)
which has led to 'heathens' (with its two syllable hint to "you little heathens",
which appeals). Though I suspect I'm simply over-reaching.

into hours. Summer on the rack - also under consideration, but would mean a
title change. Alternatively use it as the title (though doesn't have the added
meaning that the current one does) and go with
into hours, and hours, and hours. / into hours. And hours. And hours.
(though I lose cracked/rack).

and lastly:
into hours, days strapped to the rack.


Aargh!

Regards, Not.

.

[NotQuiteSure]

- changed S1/L8, from into hours, like heretics on the rack

[Firebird]

Hi Not,

I found this one a little hard to relate to, as I didn’t have a cricketing dad or really have anything to do with the sport as a kid. However, I could relate to the long, boring summer days and parents in the pub. The poem moves along nicely, with lots of vivid description, but I’m not quite sure if the poem does enough as a whole. There are lots of good impressionistic details, but nothing for me that hold together to make the poem more than the boredom that is described effectively. I suppose I want more from a poem of this length.

Some specific comments below.

Cheers,

Tristan

.
v2 (-ish)
Endless Summer


This was then, and of course it was
a different time. A window cracked
was fine for dogs, children - didn't matter
how small they were, nor how hot the day.
Weekends were when the adults played.
Dressed-up, whites commandeering
greens and parks, minutes stretching
into hours: years put to the rack.

My father, smaller than this boy
would want his dad to be. Spinner,
left arm over, deceived more than not.
But there were those deliveries when
the magic failed, the bat connected,
thwok! And a tight-stitched ball would burst
into the pavilion, clatter waiting wives, (I don’t think ‘clatter waiting wives ...’ works)
warm cake icing, sandwiches: Tea (I don’t think a colon works here. It should be a full stop IMO)

was women's work in the 1970s.
And I was out beyond the pale, boundary (Do you really need ‘boundary’?)
rope, bored past tears, grimly watching
crabby grasses grow. Before dry eyes (‘crabby grass’ doesn’t work very well for me)
a whole day died. Two innings, interval (I like ‘Before dry eyes a whole day died’)
and showers, buried - box with pads,
knitted sweaters, thick enough for winter -
in Slazenger and Addidas kit bags.

If you (and by this, I mean your mum)
didn't pack a sandwich, you'd go hungry,
'til, by stumps you'd have had a bellyful (I like ‘a bellyful full ...’. Nice use of language)
of see-saws, slides and sullen kids
who weren't your mates, weren't your own age -
go and play. Him, he's Mid-offs son
- and the nothingness of time, left
to your own devices. Then, the pub.

You two behave. I'll be back.
Soon.
Just a swift half. No you can't
have the radio on, the battery
will go flat. We won't stay long.
Krooklok set. Just a pint. Ok. Fine.
I'll bring you out a coke. And crisps.
Ice. In a minute. Early start tomorrow. (That’s a harsh ending)
.

[NotQuiteSure]

.

Hi Tristan,
thanks for the read and crit.


into the pavilion, clatter waiting wives, (I don’t think ‘clatter waiting wives ...’ works)
- ok, will ponder.
warm cake icing, sandwiches: Tea (I don’t think a colon works here. It should be a full stop IMO)
- Yes, your right.

was women's work in the 1970s.
And I was out beyond the pale, boundary (Do you really need ‘boundary’?)
- not sure about leaving 'beyond the pale' by itself.
rope, bored past tears, grimly watching
crabby grasses grow. Before dry eyes (‘crabby grass’ doesn’t work very well for me)
- wanted something that sounded childish and petulant. Any thoughts?
a whole day died. Two innings, interval (I like ‘Before dry eyes a whole day died’)
- Thanks.
....

'til, by stumps you'd have had a bellyful (I like ‘a bellyful full ...’. Nice use of language)
- Thanks.
....
....
Ice. In a minute. Early start tomorrow. (That’s a harsh ending)
- Is that good or bad?


Regards, Not


.