Sestina - The Secret

After dealing with the bindweed on the buddleia and nursing the contents of my over-full planters towards flowering, it has been lovely to sit out in the sunshine enjoying what passes for a garden. This sitting out time has been spent wisely, refreshing my memory on the discipline of the Sestina poetic form. Years have passed since my last (forced) encounter and you’d be correct to think that this is not my favourite. Anyway, rising to the challenge, I managed to get the rusty workings of my brain pointing in the right direction for long enough to compose something. I don’t know where the subject came from apart from the dark side of my imagination, iambic pentameter a bit hit and miss, but I hope it meets the criteria.

“A sestina is a poem written using a very specific, complex form. The form is French, and the poem includes six stanzas of six lines each, followed by a three line stanza at the end. Each stanza repeats the end words of the first stanza, not in the same order but in a strict formation.” See illustration.

Here is my sestina.

The Secret

After the passing of so many years
She still thought she would know him anywhere.
Decades ago, she wrote him a letter
But did not send it, instead tore it up
And decided it was best for their child
To remain unknown to him, a secret.

What started as a burdening secret
Became less important over the years.
Happy and healthy, this beautiful child
Was delightful company anywhere,
Cheerful and bright and always on the up,
Sometimes, she wished she had sent the letter.

All the details contained in that letter,
The reasons for having such a secret
And how important it was to keep up
For all the childhood and growing up years,
To guarantee acceptance anywhere,
And offer the best of all to this child.

A talented and inquisitive child,
Doing everything right to the letter.
A child going places, not anywhere.
Adult, needing answers to the secret
Of where a father might hide all these years,
Deserves to know the truth, so bring it up.

Then hours of searching and looking up.
So many questions you’re asking, dear child,
Travelling back over so many years,
This grown-up child composes a letter.
Confronted, she shares the truth, her secret,
Oh child, your father could be anywhere.

She always thought she’d know him, anywhere.
The mem’ry of him made her smile light up.
He would hate her for keeping this secret,
Denying him the chance to share their child.
Long ago, he had sent her a letter:
‘Return to Sender’, not lived here for years.

A secret lover, anywhere, now found.
After all the years, a chance to make up
Now he’s received a letter from his child.

PMW 2021

Thanks for reading. Whether you embrace freedom or not, stay safe. Pam x

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Northern Man - The Best

photo of my maternal grandparents

My first thoughts on Northern Man were of my grandfathers and my father. Northern, Manchester born and bred, all passed on now. My paternal grandfather was in the army during WW1. He was just old enough to get called up and went to France or Belgium in the summer of 1918. He married in 1922 and raised his family in Rusholme, which I used to joke to my dad, made him an original Rusholme Ruffian. The family moved to Wythenshawe when the new estate was built c.1930, then to Northenden, which is the first house I remember. Giant daisies lined the garden path. I’d like some in my garden and one day, I’ll sort it out. His wife, my Nanna Hetty, was the gardener, though Grandad looked after the cutting of the grass. I didn’t know him very well, which might sound sad, but he wasn’t the sort of grandfather, or father for that matter, who endeared himself to children and grandchildren. Anything to do with children was his wife’s department. After he was widowed, he moved in with us. He helped out in the pub and kept himself to himself. It turned out to be a short term arrangement. He moved into a flat, with a lady. He is laid to rest with Hetty and their daughter, Peggy in Manchester’s Southern Cemetery, amongst the great and the good.

Laurence Stephen Lowry, a northern man, described himself as a ‘simple man’, not uneducated but meaning that he was ordinary, unremarkable. Well, that’s a matter of opinion. I’ve studied him and his work and find him extraordinary and a unique artist.

“I am not an artist. I am a man who paints.” He said.

The first time I saw his work I wept, full of emotion for this special man and his art. It was such an overwhelming experience. His paintings were on display in Salford University and I sobbed my way through the galleries a couple of years after his death. I’m probably the only person to cry at Brian & Michael’s song, ‘Matchstalk Men & Matchstalk Cats & Dogs’. It gets me right in the heart. The Lowry Theatre and Gallery complex in Salford is a fabulous monument to him.

Alan Bennett, oh my word, no, his words, all of them. He renders me speechless. I can read his work over and over, finding something new each time, then I want to snap all my pencils because he is genius and I have no place writing anything except a shopping list. The truth of The Lady in the Van is emotional and very much a stand-alone work, a masterpiece.  A quote from Untold Stories regarding his mother’s concern about Miss Shepherd taking up residence in her van on his driveway,

“I was a reluctant (and, of course, unpaid) landlord but what worried my mother on one of her rare visits to London was what the neighbours would think.

‘This isn’t Leeds,’ I told her. ‘They won’t think anything at all.’”

In Talking Heads he has been unafraid to tackle uncomfortable and taboo subjects. Food for thought, or if it’s too difficult, don’t read it and don’t watch the TV version. Sarah Lancashire played 'Gwen', a mother feeling attracted to her fifteen year old son, beyond motherhood. Alan Bennett takes us on a journey through her thoughts and emotions, edging towards sexual in feelings, but not stepping out of line. Exceptional from a very much alive Northern man.

My maternal grandfather was the direct opposite of my paternal one. When I was a child we played, we laughed, we got told off for being rowdy and too loud, and I don’t think we cared. He taught me Tiddlywinks and Snakes & Ladders. We played hide and seek in his pub, we moved furniture, anything. Times with him and my maternal grandmother were fun. Sometimes, he liked to be quiet and read a book for a little while. He’d been affected by WW1, though this didn’t become apparent until much later in his life. My aunt told me a story about him having a child, the result of a dalliance during his marriage. True or not, I’ll never know and it wouldn’t change anything. I loved my grandad. He cried his heart out at my mother’s funeral and now they share a grave.

Northern man, northern men, gritty like the women. The best.

My poem,

A Northern man, my grandad,
Reliable and always there.
I’m told he had his ‘moments’
But I loved him and didn’t care.
Nowt for me to fret about,
A serious ‘moment’ he had
Though he stayed put with my nan
And never set eyes on the lad.

I’d wear his precious Trilby
And put clips in his Brylcreemed hair.
My childhood, fun and laughter,
And a Jaffa orange to share.
Then the loss of his daughter,
Grandad’s heart broke when my mum died.
I sat with my Northern man,
To comfort him as we both cried.

PMW 2021

Thanks for reading, stay safe. Pam x

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An Oscar Complex

Well, what a man!

I decided to look at quotes from Oscar Wilde as opposed to anything else, as I think they can truly give a better insight into persons psyche.  Those quotes which are observations off the cuff are the most revealing of course, as opposed to clips from edited novels or poems. However, doing my research, I found a proliferation of quotes online, showing an abundance of thoughts, subjects and excerpts from his written works. One that really jumped out at me was as follows:  "To recommend thrift to the poor is both grotesque and insulting. It is like advising a man who is starving to eat less."    The Soul of a Man Under Socialism. 1881.

In the current economic climate this is as true today as it was back then. Perhaps David Cameron could do with being reminded of it.

I also liked this: "I love acting. It is so much more real than life."     The Picture of Dorien Grey. 1891.

To a degree, I think everyone is guilty of doing this at some point. Creating an alter-ego who is more than you really are. Wilde also carries this theme over into his other great work "The Importance Of Being Ernest" as explored yesterday on the blog. If you haven't read Lara's post yet, give it a read.

My absolute favourite though has to be: "The truth is rarely pure and never simple".     The Importance Of Being Ernest. 1895.

That is something which I class as one of my mantra's in my journey through life. I try to make a point of hearing both sides of a story. Although, even then, things may not be as clear cut as we would like them to be.  It is also a quote which I wish more people would follow.

I must admit, I do find that finding an inspiring quote is uplifting. It adds to my mantra of Life itself. Of course, there will always be opinions of others which I don't agree with, but again, that's life!

He was a man ahead of his time. In this day and age, his lifestyle choices wouldn't be a big deal, as they were back then. Shame really. I could sit here all day, just listing the many things that this man once said, but there are so many of Oscar Wilde's quotes to read, it is mind-boggling. But even if you only find one that truly speaks to you, then follow it wholeheartedly. Be a better person by the example of others.


"On Your Shoulders" - By Louise Barklam

Standing tall
Feet firmly planted
Rooted solidly upon knowledge of old
Progress unearths a road before you

Dare to step out
Forge forward
Pave the way

We stand on the shoulders of Giants
Every day
Do we notice? Not really.
Take it for granted at your own risk
If we forget what they have done
Future generations may wonder
"What's the point?"

Those Giants have lifted us up so high
We've forgotten them
They created works, things, and gadgets
They made our lives better
Enriched us

Don't forget the Pioneers
They made EVERYTHING possible!

BE the next Giant
Forge forward
Pave the way!

Lift the future on YOUR shoulders!!


Thanks for reading my random waffle today.  ;-)

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