Dusti Rodes

2014-03-05 12:00 am

Reflections on the demise of  a Neighbour

Everywhere here
Is full up with junk
That isn't really so.
The building of a couple's lifetime.
These possessions that are left
Are all there is to show.

The winged ducks
Pots and pans
Brooms and mops
The crystal decanter with its glasses
Projector and screen
Slides taken of foreign mountain passes
Planes and trains
Books on stone polishing, birds, gardening and roses
Videos and stills of Formula One heroes
Transfixed in winning poses
Sewing machine, curtains
Cups and saucers
Things that should have been handed on
To beloved sons and daughters
That never materialised.

The log box, embellished in brass
Figures of snails and owls
Made in Caithness Glass
Squirrels, dogs and hedgehogs
Porcelain men and women
Music boxes that play tunes
While in the cutlery drawers
Fish knives, glass rolling pin
Even silver apostle spoons
The collection of records, cd's and tapes
Recorded by artistes, many long gone
A multitude of stereos and tape decks
To choose to play them on.

Clocks and timers
Wallets and watches
TV and twin tub
Clothes airer and spin dryer
Pencils, pens and paper (by the ream)
Plastic bags in all sizes
Enough for several lifetimes
Drills and saws
Fishing tackle
Fly, sea and coarse
Full blown sou'wester sailing suit
And around in the garage
Long wader boots
An iron gate
Wrought with his own hand
All serve to measure
The mark of the man.

Dusti Rodes (2004)