That splashy cold, I want it.
I want that blue water smashing.
Not allowed. Want.
Hot, yellow-sun, empty pool, blue glass.
Not allowed.
No-one to see me.
Tip forward.
Enter blue-clear.
Confusion. Quiet.
Pretty playing light patterns above, blue around.
Quiet. Nice.
Roaring noise, bodies pulling.
Mummy cuddles me, wet dress clings.
She is crying so I do.
She isn’t cross.
Jennifer Stakes studied Medieval History at Edinburgh and Bristol Universities and now lives in Washington DC. She has managed to find some decent tea but misses Jaffa Cakes.
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Posted on March 19, 2010 in Other
12 Responses to “SUMMER HOLIDAY: WATCHING THE POOL • by Jennifer Stakes”
Comments
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March 19th, 2010 at 2:09 am
Fine writing. Original point of view. Works perfectly.
March 19th, 2010 at 6:45 am
Good thing the pool wasn’t really empty, but full of water. Her mother really ought to be cross with her. Ha, Ha. The glass was really only smooth blue water! What a delightful twist. My, how that child could sit so peacefully under water, watching the dancing ripples on the surface. But roaring noise had to come to disturb her, grabby people. No wonder she was crying. And mummy, who believed she set her out alone, why is she crying?
March 19th, 2010 at 7:03 am
Thanks Catherine and Roberta for your comments. This is actually my first memory. I remember not being frightened at all until I saw Mummy crying.
March 19th, 2010 at 7:03 am
Very nice. Scary, poor little girl.
March 19th, 2010 at 7:05 am
quite
poignant
especially
the last line.
March 19th, 2010 at 7:31 am
I lived this as well. Went pretty much like that.
Nice. Well done Jennifer.
March 19th, 2010 at 11:57 am
I love the simplicity of this. It’s a lot in a little. It’s structured really well, almost staccato like which I think reflects the voice/speaker beautifully. ^_^
March 19th, 2010 at 12:34 pm
Beautifully poignant. I really love this.
March 19th, 2010 at 2:10 pm
Nicely done. I have a very similar memory – except mine is full of gulping, agonising panic – until my father hauled me out of the water by my ankles as I’d tried to push an inflatable ring down into the water and step into it…
March 20th, 2010 at 5:50 am
I think Catt has something there, although I hear it not as staccato, which is more continuous, but like the start and stop of a child learning the piano.
March 21st, 2010 at 3:53 am
Just read this! Lovely build up to a great finish – referring to the story in the poem – which works perfectly as a poem!
March 23rd, 2010 at 8:05 pm
Liked this and agree with the comment about the staccato rhythm enhancing the experience.