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Thread: Poems from "Toxteth" (CTG)

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    Senior Member ChrisGeorge's Avatar
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    Default Poems from "Toxteth" (CTG)

    This is one of several poems I have adapted from my 1976 chapbook, "Toxteth," a long autobiographical poem about my early days in Liverpool. The book received some kind words in a review from Tony Cooney in the old T.O.P.S. magazine in the late 1970's. Does anybody know if Anthony Cooney who published the mag out of The Old Police Station in Lark Lane (thus the name T.O.P.S.) is still around?


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    Prize Conker: Rose Lane School, Liverpool, 1963

    I exhibit the monster conker secretly in poetry class,
    and bets are laid for the lunch-time tournament,
    Toby Cash, in a reverie, oblivious to our whispers,
    paces the room, delivers an impassioned recitation
    of Alfred Noyes' "The Highwayman," spittle white
    at the corner of his mouth as he booms the verses.

    As Toby relates the bloody tale, all I can think of
    is my prize conker, battle-ready, vinegar-
    hardened, pierced and knotted to the end
    of a lace from my football boot. I long
    to see it, one by one, smash every conker
    in the school, in the city, the entire world.

    But--thwack!--Toby's cane smacks my desk;
    he snatches the conker and hauls me to the front
    of the class. He forces my arm out straight.
    Another swish of the cane, and pain crumples my hand.
    Mr. Cash drops my prize conker into his drawer,
    and he locks my hopes away with a jangle of keys.

    Christopher T. George
    Christopher T. George
    Editor, Ripperologist
    Editor, Loch Raven Review
    http://christophertgeorge.blogspot.com/
    Chris on Flickr and on MySpace

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    Senior Member ChrisGeorge's Avatar
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    Direct Hit, Calderstones Park, 1967

    In the Quarry Bank lunch hour, I play footie
    with Andy, Garth, and Billy Lynch.
    We lay our blazers down for goalposts
    on the grass near Calderstones mansion.
    A mongrel runs up, pauses, and pees
    on a blazer. Everyone but Andy laughs.

    Christopher T. George
    Christopher T. George
    Editor, Ripperologist
    Editor, Loch Raven Review
    http://christophertgeorge.blogspot.com/
    Chris on Flickr and on MySpace

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    Creator & Administrator Kev's Avatar
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    You poems are fab Chris
    YO! Liverpool has taken me 10 years to develop and maintain.
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    Thank you



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    Senior Member ChrisGeorge's Avatar
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    Thanks, Kev.

    Chris
    Christopher T. George
    Editor, Ripperologist
    Editor, Loch Raven Review
    http://christophertgeorge.blogspot.com/
    Chris on Flickr and on MySpace

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    Playing Away, 1967

    An away match down south--follow the team everywhere.
    Sleep in your scarf the night before so they'll win.
    We lose anyway. The train journey back at night.
    Boozy men stagger down moving corridors. Engaged:
    I wait for the toilet door to pull tongues at me.
    Please don't flush while train is in a station.

    A restless doze. Too cold. The train rattles
    through black country populated only by the moon,
    and moonlight glistens on steel lines like endless tears.
    Lime Street Station. A sleepy taxi driver at the rank.
    "Good match was it?" Even the Sink Club is closed.
    Four a.m. Sky lightens. Birds sing. Sneak upstairs.

    Christopher T. George
    Christopher T. George
    Editor, Ripperologist
    Editor, Loch Raven Review
    http://christophertgeorge.blogspot.com/
    Chris on Flickr and on MySpace

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