Free...?

How so ... when conception itself

deposits me to be, in cell of flesh?

No prior consultation,

nor explanation,

no choice offered of language,

race, or classification.

*

Nine months the sentence, entombed thus...

before the prison door opens,

and wrapped in bewildering streams of pain,

slowly I'm pushed, propelled,

expelled naked and helpless,

unchosen parents me to claim.

*

Another sentence now begins,

helpless still,

I'm bound to those who care for me.

Without them I am dead.

The very air I breath,

threatening, bacteria laden,

and food and water too...

All that sustains me is suspect, out to contaminate,

dominate, or kill.

*

Still unasked, my form controlled

by silent invisible inner means,

growing as the blueprint set,

binds me to follow customs;

an imprisoning net,

strong as any prison cell.

I'm free ... as long as I fit in,

subject my spirit to the common will.

*

Thus do some sad dispirited souls,

life ending, sum up their dreary enterprise.

Failed to discern they, that

freedom only truly prevails

where common restraint permits

each soul its freedom to exist.

*

Dennis Crompton © 1997

I am a father now

I am a father now, I tell you, I was there …
feeling and sharing in a secondary way
something of the searing pains my dear wife felt that day.
*
It was interminably long for her
as slowly, push by gasping … crying … straining … push
those intermittent hot pulsating surges
stretched more her pelvic frame and cervix.
This, midst low caring murmurings of her doctor and the nurses
who came and checked and whispered
went … came back again … assisted
then left us for a while, mother- and father to-be.
*
And I, helpless and with deep concern did watch
I squeezed her hand and wiped her brow
and kissed her damp, untidy perspirated hair.
From time to time, staff came and went
in crisp clean antiseptic gowns
and in-between they peered and talked and peered some more
and she, submitted to all this invading hurt
as on her crumpled sheets she wrestled there.
*
At least that’s what I thought, imagined it must be for her
I had not realized she saw beyond the drawn-out anguish of her bed.
She knew her body must become a door to motherhood
paining life’s miracle to the light of day.
*
And as a father I can tell you now, it was most wondrous to
behold the moment when my daughter entranced forth,
her tiny body holding so much hope,
as her first blessed helpless human sounds my heart did touch.
*
I had not thought when first began the process to this did span,
that it would be as I experienced now, and I first kissed this babe
of ours upon her lovely, soft and tender brow.
*
And even now, these many years gone by
my arms do feel again in memories treasured times,
her so small body snuggled warm against my chest.
And ‘membering when I first did look upon her face,
I feel those unashamed tears again spill from my eyes.
*
I am her father still, my wife and Love’s best gift,
and will they ever know what word means to me?
I, am a father now.
*
© Dennis Crompton 1994

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

In passing, 1929

I was side-lined by a suggestion on one of the web pages I visited recently by the words, ‘Gregorian calendar’ and decided to take a peep at the year 1929, the year I was born:

• February 14 was the day of the St Valentine’s gangland massacre in Chicago, (not a good start … ),
• the year ended with the stock market crash, when $26 billion dollars was wiped off US Securities.

It wasn’t all bad however, as developments in science were encouraging:

• Albert Einstein proposed the unified field theory … seemed a good idea to me,
• a German psychiatrist developed the electroencephalograph (EEG) for recording brain waves; useful for those told they had no brains,
• for the first time, penicillin was used to fight infection,
• and Bell Telephone Laboratories in New York gave the first public demonstration of colour TV: the first images were a bouquet of roses and an American flag.

And there were important (early) developments for the rights of women too:

• the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in the UK announced that women were now "persons" under the British North America Acts, and thus eligible for appointment to the Senate of Canada.

But best of all, on 7 March, Fred and Florence Crompton welcomed their new baby son, Dennis, into their family. A baby brother for Hilda, Jean and Fred. Yes indeed!

Dennis Crompton © 2013
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

My lone search

It was a cold December day when I walked from the bus stop towards the church where my mother and father were married. St. Nicholas’s church was about five minutes’ walk from the bus stop and I had to walk briskly to keep warm. I’d made the journey from New Zealand back to England in search of my family history, particularly about my mother who had died when I was a baby, and who I had never known.

It took me some time to find the vicar who was on his way out of the vicarage to visit a parishioner. He was very helpful however, as he opened up two safes and left me to it. The Banns, Marriages and Death Registers kept me busy for some time as I was really keen to find my mother’s signature in the Marriage register. Seeing it, I thought, would help to give me a clearer image of the mother I never knew.

I found it, and I treasured the opportunity to see it. It was more than enough to see that, and to have walked up the path and into the church, down the aisle to the front, where I imagined my Mum and Dad holding hands, and gazing into each other’s eyes. They would have been hearing the words I heard then in my head:

“Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder”

…and no man did. Instead, death came and took her away, and separated them forever.

It was years later before I quietly asked my father when were alone one day: ‘Dad, what was my mother really like?’

I’d asked him a couple of times before but he could get no further than saying wistfully, and with emotion, ‘She was a lovely, warm-hearted woman, Den; we were soul-mates…’ and he could get no further as his eyes filled up…

I stopped asking after that, as I could see that it distressed him so. But it distressed me too for I longed to know more of the mother who had loved me; the mother I never knew. That day in December though I’d gained a little more for my mind’s picture. I’d been in that church, seen their signatures together, stood where they stood, and some years later I was able to get a copy of their Marriage Certificate.

As I left the church, the vicarage was closed and I had nowhere to leave the keys entrusted me by the vicar. I would loved for him to have been there to chat with me about the history that linked me to his church. I walked back across the main road to a school, which was probably the church school and found two or three people in the staffroom. After introducing myself, I gave them the keys and then because I was so very cold I requested a cup of coffee. They were very happy to oblige, offered me a seat and some biscuits too, and were keen to ask me about New Zealand and hear about the reason for my journey.

It was almost 1.30 p.m. as I left to walk back to the bus stop. The grey skies and the penetrating cold, combined with the fact that I was on my own made it easier to leave. St Nicholas Church records, otherwise I may have stayed there forever, connected slightly to my mother.

And I offer my thanks to the vicar for the willingness to assist me and to entrust his valuable records and keys to me. He had helped me in the search for my own identity, for which I am most grateful.

Dennis Crompton © 1998
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Places

In that small cottage over there,

I first saw the light of day.

 *

Up that dark and cobbled street,

awful demons I did meet.

 *

In that schoolyard I met Alfred;

he could pee two inches higher.

 *

In that schoolroom I did learn

the wonders of the written word.

 *

In this ear did a schoolgirl whisper:

come closer, love, and let me kiss you.

 *

My sister gave me in that house there

a delicious slice of her homemade bread.

 *

In that village house I knelt beside

the bedside of a coffined child.

 *

In that air raid shelter I did hide

from enemy bombers in the night.

 *

In this street I once did see

a big red bus run near over me.

 *

From Glasgow city I sailed away,

great expectations filled my day.

 *

Down that road I walked on air,

softly whispering my love for her.

 *

In that ward a miracle I did see;

my first daughter born to me.

 *

So many places I have seen,

wandering, adventurous, lucky me.

 *

Dennis Crompton © 1995

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Sometimes...

So many times I have wondered how my mother felt about me. I never knew her; she died when I was one year old. Part of this poem covers those thoughts.

Sometimes I wonder at how I came to be…

From two separate entities preparing parts of me;

mother and father, loving ecstasy,

nine months later then entranced ME!

*

Sometimes I wonder what Mother’s thoughts had been,

the moment her eyes first gazed at precious me;

tired and aching reaching out to me,

held me, kissed me…then whispered, what?…to me?

*

Sometimes I wonder at the sights I came to see,

living earth, clouds and sky, ever changing scenes;

birds and beasts, fish in the sea…

the colours of nature all wondrous and free.

*

Sometimes I wonder at what life is all about;

winter and summer, floods and droughts;

the bitter, the sweet, certainty and doubt;

living and dying, a whimper, a shout.

*

Sometimes I wonder at the living mystery

of skin, blood and bone forming the visible part of me,

clothing the invisible you see as me;

sometimes I wonder…now, which is the real me?

*

Dennis Crompton © 1998

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Time to return?

Is it too soon to say that I am ready now,

fold me back into the great mother womb

from which I was expelled,

a human time traveller, not consulted

on planet earth dwell?

*

Have I run the gamut,

passed the required tests?

Experienced to the fullest,

all conditions set?

*

It's true and freely I admit...

I've been so afraid at times

of making just the same mistakes

I've seen on every side.

*

Some were members of a team

played each game as it came...

I was drawn to other things,

and so they called me names.

*

It made me weep each time I saw

my fellow humans suffer...*

Others laughed and jeered again,

how could they be so blind?

*

In many ways I quickly found

I wasn't hard enough...

Men were to be as hard as nails,

and made of better stuff.

*

Yet I have learned and know it’s true

for each person I have met,

beneath each tough exterior

there's a human heart to touch.

*

Am I ready now to close the door

on all I think I've been through...?

For now I ask, 'If it's the end,

where will I return to?’

*

Dennis Crompton © 2013

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)