Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Tuesday Night Delight

It sits there
an unlikely temple,
wearing an air of stale neglect.
Cracked concrete leads to peeling paint,
grey pebble dash and
grilles at the window:
a local committee decision,
to stop anyone running off
with the tea urn.

Inside, the musty smell of old curtains
is at curious odds with the
clumsy, poster painted pictures
embellished with egg boxes and dried pasta.
Kayleigh, aged four
seems to have been a particularly dab hand
with the pvc.

Today, the serving hatch is covered
in brightly coloured cartons,
the packaging more enticing than the contents.
Leaflets abound
and there, in the centre of the room
poised in perfect balance,
it waits
for those glory moments of
show and tell,
shame or shine.

Sandra is on the desk this week,
whilst Maureen presides over
the nitty gritty.
“Oh well done, that’s two lbs”
she trills,
followed by:
“Well, it was your birthday,
best put it behind you.”
Very apt.

The bluebottle on the windowsill
does not seem impressed,
as we all put our hands together
for Doreen,
he’s seen it all before.
“Now then ladies,
can someone help with the chairs?”
And that is it,
for another week.

Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Last few words: 
I'm sure this isn't a peculiarly British phenomenon. But possibly 'the tea urn' the champion of many a cricket match is. Jx
Editing stage: 

Comments

As a damn yankee American, I am not sure what the hell is going on here,
not because of your writing and discriptions,but some of the stuff left out
"as we put our hands together for Doreen, I don't recall meeting her , tell me more, why are hands being held, or are they clapping,
Americans are by nature quite provincial, and are grossly illiterate when it comes to other cultures
so we have to be lead by coaxing hands to check out how the rest of the world lives.

we stoopit sometimes, Still I enjoyed the gentle, casual manner of the telling

Tally Ho, jolly good ta ra

Al

I thought the nuances of this would cause a bit of difficulty for anyone who isn't British - or at least lived here long enough to have absorbed some of its eccentricities.
I am describing 'the village hall' and one of the many weight watchers meetings held within. There are village halls all over UK that look just like this.
It's possibly more of a female thing too.
You don't have to know who Doreen is, in fact it's better you probably don't. She's bound to be terminally boring and hideously smug at having won dieter of the week.
The term - put your hands together means give a round of applause, again this may not be familiar across the pond.
A couple of my English female friends read this and identified immediately (because so familiar to them).
I did wonder if this would be more difficult on the international market - so as to speak.
Thanks for reading and commenting, it's always good to hear from you. Hope it makes a bit more sense now.
Jx

------------
Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

author comment

put your hands together means give a round of applause
we all do whenever we read you

now
you
put your hands together and give a round of applause
to all as thanks givng

I'm always grateful for any positive feedback.
Jx

------------
Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

author comment
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.