Thursday, June 02, 2005

Cider House Days


I remember the cider house
Where the ring roads met and circled
Where I met Sam

There was little joy there
Where the old boys with the sour apple scent
Sat at the wet wooden tables

And the desperate laughter
Getting more maniac with every sip
More intense

Until we tripped arm-linked hell-bent
Into the high-pitched singing air
of Birmingham

16 comments:

Sue hardy-Dawson said...

This makes me think of the hot summer evenings of my teenage years. I'm sure there were some then and time stays longer when you're younger. I think it's the sour apples and the sence of adventure and joy of life

NicoleBraganza said...

You always have the right words to perfectly capture a moment in time. I really liked this poem.

Kimberly said...

It's definatelly like having a look back in time, like remembering a good memory. This is one of my faves

transience said...

"tripped arm-linked hell-bent"

excellent. this is tongue-twisting as well as lyrical.

Pincushion said...

Yep..i can see it all..tho' I have to admit as an observer! You certainly have a great eye for detail.you etch it in so beautifully!
On another note..i used the term 'desperate laughter' in my verse too! Albeit in a completely different context! Serendipity or wot!
Have a great weekend..cheers :)

Lorena said...

solitude spoken of so sweetly. nice image i got when i read this.

jadedprimadonna said...

Creates such a vivid image in my mind. I can smell the cider.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Roger, I'm with jpd on the ability to smell in this poem. Also the noise level was noticable -- singing/intense laughter. The poem was just like a pub, a distinctive smell and lots of noise!

Anonymous Poet said...

I concur. But can you please explain a little more about the line "There was little joy there" ? It's a bit ambiguous to me, at least.

Shubhodeep said...

really nice poem, this...conjured up a load of emotions...non-decipherable, yet articulate, somehow...Cheers!!

do visit my blog again http://shubhodeep.blog-city.com

P.S. I'd like your feedback on the Peter Pan poem I've written

Roger Stevens said...

We used to visit the pub when I was a student in Birmingham. We went there a few times on the way home from college and got very intoxicated. We had a good time but the pub itself was quite depressing - damp and dreary and full of sad old men getting drunk on scrumpy cider.

Roger Stevens said...

Shubhodeep - Non-decipherable but articulate. A very good phrase. I've been reading Don Paterson's Landing Light. The poems appear to make perfect sense until you read them closely. Then the meaning seems to slip away from your grasp.

NicoleBraganza said...

Roger - Shouldnt it be...
And the desperate laughter getting more "manic" with every sip ?

Roger Stevens said...

Well spotted, Nicole.

It should indeed by manic.

Thank you.

Anonymous Poet said...

Thanks for the explanation. That's what I thought it might be. It was just a little difficult to discern that "the laughter" belonged to your group, not the sad old men. Perhaps "But our desperate laughter became more . . . " might draw out the contrast between the sad old men and the young drunk laughter a little more. (This is an unsolicited comment, I hope that's OK). If I understand what you are trying to do(?), or part of it anyway, it is trying to draw out that contrast between the sad old men that young intoxication.

gulnaz said...

even in the worst of times, an evening with freinds is bound to cheer you up and feel better.
sour apple scent and wooden tables...ooh beautiful aroma! :)