Heaven Through the Windscreen

This was written by my dad in 2007, twenty-six years after his accident, half a lifetime ago.

After my own daughter was born this year and approaching the third birthday of my son, I think more and more about what it means to be a father. The second half of this poem captures exactly the character of my own father towards his children. And it reflects the kind of parent I aspire to be, too.

I never read this poem while my dad was still here. I didn't need to. These aren't just words on a page - they are a true reflection of the man. 

He is still missed every day.

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Heaven Through the Windscreen

There it was
The road ahead
Not any old road leading north or north by south coast
But the very, very ancient road
Of life
Leading upwards up-up-upwards

Young and ambitious
I spun my compass like a roulette wheel
I could go anywhere, do anything, play any game
A hundred helicopter blades couldn't propel me into the waiting world with half the force of my intent

I studied the old fools, how they made their money and secreted their garish lovers in those nightly shadows brighter than the home-made flame
How easy to surpass them all
And without falling into their trap of wrinkled regrets
That crawled out like slippery creatures from the cesspool of conscience
From the pints of ale and over their slippery tongues
Like boasting but so like confession
And I listened.

How wise I was at 25
Ready to wrestle the world, its inmates and outlaws
Its barons and harlots, its bosom and wonders
Until I had engraved my name in its very crust

But in the time it takes to spill a cup of coffee
I spilt the hot fluid from my eyes
The laminated glass that was wont to protect me from the storm
Turned on me
The screen that was an ever changing vista on my universe
Suddenly turned savage
For, from the smooth, gentle face that I had stroked a thousand times
And wiped away the beads of sweat and dusty clouds
Emerged a thousand teeth like gritty razors

The monster closed its mouth around my head
And bit into my eyes
Chewed them till gratified
And sucked my sight into its depths

Blindness.
But weep not for me for blood dries quickly
And the universe that once existed outside my body
Just moved indoors
And the God who was so well hidden by the innumerable stars
Became quite visible at close quarters
He must have slipped in while I wasn't looking

Instead of aiming all my cannons towards becoming the fool I was hoping to avoid
I turned the fuse into a candle
Even a little light within
Will reveal infinitely more than a myriad of outer lights
For the inner light lights up the inner man

Instead of building up with perishable bricks
I reinforced my emaciated soul
For inner steel constructs strong bridges between peoples

Instead of dealing in hard cash
I bought a pillow for my heart, in softness to repose
For heavy wealth must have a hardened heart on which to balance
But fardles and burdens slip easily from a softened heart

Instead of wasting a miserable lifetime guiding a family in the misuses of the world
My children guided me
What greater lesson is there in life than this?
To lead your protector as a child
Becoming the guardian of your protector

What greater intimacy can there be?
The child learning to guide the father
Always close, always holding hands
Sharing trust, exchanging responsibility, seeing as one
Loving
A living love, hand in hand, heart to heart
Warm, cosy and communicating
Unafraid and fully expressive
Not one through the friendly bank account that dispenses cold games and toys every now and then

There is a bond that needs no eyes to join together
And that bond is called God
For how else can I say
It has been a privilege to grow up with my children
I wouldn't have missed it for a world of eyes
And all because I lost a bit of sight

And when I lost that little bit of sight
I gained a little bit of sight

Thank God

My parents got married on 1st June, 1980. My dad used to write an anniversary poem every year. Here's one from 2009. The reference to the "Gift From Ninian park" was a Cardiff City FC lightshade and lamp. My mum was thrilled, as you can imagine.

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29^th Anniversary

To my darling Teresa - on our wedding anniversary

29 years of married bliss

What more fanciful than this

To go shopping just for you

For something novel, something new

You take the blindness from my eyes

And light them up like summer skies

To prove you lift me from the dark

Accept this gift from Ninian Park

The dazzle that a dawning brings

Is in the soaring bluebird’s wings

And so the city’s bluebird stamp

Is on your brand new table lamp

This present that you’ll thank me for

Persuades my giving heart towards more

The perfect match is made and played

With a bluebird on your ceiling shade!

And as I am your biggest fan

I love you more than Myles loves Ran

I love you more than Tone loves Rache

And even more than P loves H

And the best part of getting older

We can add up all the years together

We’re not mere pups or tiny tots

What they’ve just nibbled, we’ve had lots!!!

From Spiro

Your darling husband

X X X

After a week of friends and family getting married, this poem seems appropriate...

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Yes Dear

The wisest words I ever heard

Came from an old man I once knew

He said, ‘I’ve been married fifty years

I’ll pass my secret on to you!’

‘You’ll always see me in this club

Taking my two pints every night

Without a worry in the world

Unburdened by domestic fights

It’s with the blessing of my wife

I leave my home come evening tide

And with a kiss upon her cheek

She smiles, content and satisfied

The reason for my quiet life

And let me whisper in your ear

Take heed now you’re a married man

And always say to her, “Yes dear!”

It doesn’t matter what she says

Though nagging, gossiping or baying

Just interject occasionally

“Yes dear!” is all needs saying.

“Yes dear” is the panacea

You don’t even need to pay attention

When she says ‘Are you listening?’

“Yes dear!” avoids contention.

Be wise my boy and harken well

Avoid the tantrums, tiffs and tears

Anything she says to you

“Yes dear, yes dear, yes dear, yes dear!”

Does she want to buy a hat

“Yes dear” is all you have to say

‘Potatoes have gone up ten pence’

“Yes dear” for ever and a day

I’m passing on my experience

To you, my fellow member

If she tells you that you’re drunk

Just say “yes dear”, remember!’

But I was young and reckless then

And did not heed the old man’s warning

I battled every argument

From dawn to night to morning.

How foolish was I, how naïve?!

To think common sense and logic

Could make the slightest difference

To a tongue that’s automatic!

How many years I’ve wasted

Seeing justice was applied to

But even being right was wrong

Cos other rights were then denied you!

I had absolutely no idea

Of a wife’s capacity to talk

Their words just issue like a flood

And “yes dear” became my Noah’s Ark.

They wear you down, year by year

No indication in their youth

That they could talk incessantly

So “Yes dear” became my lie, my truth!

It wasn’t Joshua’s fife’s and drums

That caused Jericho to fall

It was prattling women’s tongues

That banged and battered down the walls

Words do not need philosophy

When they bound from boundless vaults

That’s when she plays the woman’s trick

To accuse you of her faults

So,not only were you wrong in the first place

Her words have sliced your mind in half

But any wrong she confesses to

She admits on your behalf

You’re reduced to a blithering idiot

Thinking can not be thunk straight

Your brain becomes a blender’s bowl

Mixed up and mashed upon her plate!

So listen all young married men

Stay energetic and alive

Take the advice of this old fool

Who managed barely to survive

Before she makes mince meat of your mind

Please heed these words you hear

If you want a quiet life

Switch off and say “Yes dear!”

4 March 2009 (01:42)

Free Deliveries

This poem could be subtitled An Ode to Minimalism. Being visually impaired, he liked to keep everything in order so he could find it, did my old man.

Which meant no unnecessary clutter, nothing left lying around, and "for God's sake, put the bloody sellotape back in the drawer where you found it you little get"

---

Free Deliveries

Those pizza huts & curry shops
For breakfast, lunch or tea
Encourage us to stuff our chops
With free delivery

A table or a three piece suite
Although not necess’ry
Persuade us to become elite
With free delivery

The milkman on his merry round
With every grocery
Convinces us to save a pound
With free delivery

The father and the bride arrive
To great expectancy
The bridegroom has been hooked alive
By free delivery

When father time comes knocking
With a flight to sun and sea
Beware, he’s only mocking
With free delivery

Be warned, my little innocents
Can there really be
Such a thing – ask common sense –
As free delivery?

For anything delivered free
Is paid for in the end
Maybe twofold, even three
So careful how you spend

Who can resist a bargain?
Neither you nor I
But you haven’t spent one farthing
On what you want to buy!

Your house gets cluttered with pretension
And in decline your coffers
Then you build a large extension
To accommodate these offers

So my advice is do not buy!
Buy nothing great or small
Be wise, be prudent and comply
For happiness is all

And now you’ve learnt to mind your purse,
To jog your memory,
I’ll sell you this, a pound a verse,
With …  free delivery!


2 September 2009 

I Didn't Mean It

Drunken misadventures of a visually impaired, middle-aged man. I wonder who this could have been based on?

---

I DIDN’T MEAN IT!

‘I didn't mean it, love, sweet love
I really didn’t mean it!
“Two pints!” you said, Two pints I had!
Plus that dozen in between it.

I didn’t mean to drink so much
and spend our weekly shopping
But just look on the bright side, love
It saves us supermarket hopping

I didn’t mean it love, believe me
My fate was badly written
You said my shoes needed a polish
I didn't mean to use the kitten

I didn’t know that rotten kitty
Would smother all the house
Carpets, curtains, window cills
While chasing your white mouse

I didn’t mean to drop it’s cage
And make it wild and run
I thought it was the toaster
And tried to set it to Well done

I didn’t mean to tear your bra
I mistook it for two hats
Which I could use just like a net
To catch the mouse before the cat!

By slamming at me like a door
I merely tried to grab your handle
I didn’t mean to make you jump
Onto that lighted candle

I didn’t mean to start a fire
And burn down all the house
I didn’t mean to toast your books,
Your kitten and pet mouse

I didn’t mean to make you mad
You really shouldn’t be unkind
Please understand that life is hard
For anyone who’s blind

Come let us kiss and make it up
Things are never as bad as they seem
We can start all over again
And this time, live our dream

Come let me wrap you in my arms
And kiss you once again
And as your clothes are ripped to shreds
Let’s pop into my den

And then the words you spoke to me
Restored my faith in life…
“You drunken fool, that’s not your house
And I am not your wife!”


2 March 2005

A possibly unfinished poem about Cardiff, the city he lived in almost all his life.

---

Cardiff Twist on District List

Our city’s area’s to name

Would be boring, and a shame

Read the list and you’ll be hissed

But add a rhyme and you’ll be fine

No need for relevance or rhythm

A rhyme in time

And all’s forgiven!

So light a lantern up in Canton

Build a plot in Splott

Find a mission in Llanishen

And boy, you’re getting hot!

Translate alpha in Gabalfa

Make an oath in Roath

Catching felons in Saint Mellons

And we’ll get medals, both.

They feed dragons in Saint Fagans

From the diner in Rhiwbina

Call staff forth from Llandaff North

And nothing could be finer!

Some Dress comely in Llanrumney

Touchy-feely out in Ely

Come from Forfar to Tremorfa

And you’ll think of smiling, really

You’ll find spare water in Fairwater

And a drake stride out of Lakeside

Reads the banner in Pontcanna

And you’ll smile again, inside!

Ride the range down towards Grangetown

Wearing socks sold down the Docks

To a dark or lit church out in Whitchurch

So let’s attend in flocks

They chew Chen gum in old Pengam

Spend unseen in Pengam Green

Madams frown in Adamsdown

If you know what I mean

Church an’ Taff, Welsh for Llandaff

Has sin cloyed those in Cyncoed?

What men work around Pentyrch?

Only those employed!

Chase a Druid in Plasnewydd

Catch a phrase to teach Cathays

Scrub the deck with, folks in Leckwith

And sail away for days

All are cute down lovely Butetown

Oh, I say it’s Cardiff Bay

Joanna Lumley prefers Rumney

But the lady loves Milk Tray

How birds grin, to stain Pentwyn

And peck organs down, in Morganstown

But no such plan in Penylan

As it’s already brown.

They take senna in Pontprennau

And blame sport throughout Danescourt

‘Do your head in’ with Llanedeyrn

That’s why they’re all so short.

No need kill, those in Thornhill

But this gain is in Lisvane

And from Cowbridge down to Trowbridge

Falls the rain in Spain

Winds yon windlass in Tongwynlais

To hoist the wan in Cefn-on

Sparkling teeth enlighten Heath

Until they’re all but gone.

The Enquirer hides in Caerau

While shivers ride in Riverside

But turn insane by Pentrebane

To wander far and wide.

Change of name be, done in Maindy

But can’t fill a bladder now in Radyr

Who trod a path in Gwaelod-y-Garth?

The one who stole the ladder!

Come on down to Crockertown

And enter our town centre

Cycles gone in Michaelstone

And so they lack a mentor.

Press the Hash Key in Mynachdy

To end and count the clock out

To go ten rounds, the castle grounds

Most surely is a knock-out!

MORE AREAS BELOW POSSIBLY

SO MAY INCLUDE AFTER FINDING OUT.

Hurry orf Atlantic Wharf

Then check mate on Cardiff Gate

…

15 July 2012

now off to Oscar’s Christening

The Afterlife

A very dark and serious poem about death and the afterlife. Or at least, my dad's version of dark and serious.

---

The Afterlife

The widow in her bed awoke
A voice called out her name
‘Mabel, Mabel, can you hear me?’
Chilling the air from whence it came

She stared into the darkness
And tremblingly replied
‘Henry darling, is that you?’
Though she knew that he had died

‘Yes, my dearest, it is me.
Didn’t I say that when I died
I would contact you again
From beyond the other side

‘Oh, Henry, Henry, how are you?
How is life beyond the grave?
Is it nice in paradise?
How do you pass the time of day?’

‘Oh, it’s lovely, Mabel darling,
Here the sun shines all day long
So every morning when I wake
I just burst into song.

‘I have some bread for breakfast
And then go down for a swim
I stroll along the gardens
And frolic in the wind

I have some bread at lunchtime
And take another dip
I mate with several females
Then take a little kip.

‘I eat some bread for supper
And take a final splash
It’s so serene and peaceful
No need to fret or dash’

‘But Henry, when you were alive’
The widow sternly said,
‘You were always in a rush
And you never ate your bread.

‘As for swimming, you astound me,
It was something that you hated
You couldn’t even swim, my dear
And we certainly never mated!

‘The afterlife has changed you so’
Henry answered, ‘It’s just luck,
For when I was upon the earth
I was not a little duck!’

30 November 2010

Frilly and Binx

Two of my dad's favourite things combined here: animals and poems. He had a long succession of cats from Kelly, Julian and Blackie in the 80s, through to April and Scratch in the 90s and Frilly and Binx more recently. Frilly is still catching mice and misses Spiro as much as any of us. Her brother Binx is currently whereabouts unknown - although the traffic in Roath is pretty unforgiving, there have been a few sightings now and then, and he was a tough cat . There were also the famous Video Nation budgies, Penney and Dale named after Cardiff City stars of the day.

Frilly the Cat

This poem, like most of his poems, is sweet and silly but also shares a deeper truth: in this case, the fine-balanced relationship between man and animal
But really, it shows how much he loved his cats.

---

Frilly & Binx

Let’s analyse the vagaries

Of keeping pets for pleasure

Is it perhaps ridiculous

To call animals a treasure

What benefits can they provide?

What riches can we measure

Is there a profit or return

In keeping pets for pleasure?

To start: pets are a paradox

They grow up, yet they don’t

You bring them up, you nurture them

But leave home?  No, they won’t!

They are comparable to babies

In the ways they need our care

For there is a God-like quality

That eternally we share

We can condemn or punish

We can comfort or reward

We can pamper living creatures

We can put them to the sword

We are tyrant and dictator

We are master to a slave

Yet the more we learn to love them,

The more loving they behave

Yes, the more we learn to love them

The more loving they behave

A self revealed philosophy

Sounding from the psyche’s cave

Binx and Frilly, bruv and sis

They’re my cats, that’s what they is

Nose to nose is how they kiss

Binx and Frilly, Frills & Binx!

Frills is black, and Binx is too

But his belly’s white as snow

When he rolls across the floor

It’s the zebra crossing show

When he perches on my lap

Pure white shirt and pure white gloves

He’s a concert pianist

Quite the best of Frilly’s bruvs

He can balance on the telly

Between Photograph and clock

He can stare just like an ornament

Art nouveau as ‘cat with sock’

White whiskers curling upwards

Like a grin by Salvo Dahli

White cotton wool inside his ears

He can look a right old Charlie

Binx and Frilly, bruv and sis

They’re my cats, that’s what they is

Nails to nails is how they hiss

Binx and Frilly, Frills & Binx!

Frills is little, gold her glare

Black and beautiful as coal

Sleek as silk she strokes my legs

Guiding me towards her bowl

She has scratched my yucca bare

And my cordaline and couch

But I tell you I don’t care

Unless it’s me she scratches… Ouch!

While still kittens, to my folly

I released my birdies both

As they flew out for a jolly

How they screeched a budgies oath

Squash and Tickle are my budgies

The conservatory they fly

You may have guessed that with my cats

They do not see eye to eye

They perch upon the yucca

And call Binx & Frilly names

And then upon the window ledge

Pour invective from the frames

Tickle is a cobalt blue

And thinks kittens are just ground-hogs

Squash radiates a turquoise hue

And toilettes over silly old mogs

But  budgies trying to dive bomb cats

Is not a good idea

Binx caught Squash on the rubber plant

Till he got pecked on his ear

To avoid a similar fate

Happening to Tickle too

I flapped a tea towel in his face

So he’d flap up to the roof

Did he fly up to the perches

I hooked hanging from the roof

Did he make the ten foot yucca

From which he eyes the world aloof?

No, he never left the branch

Yes, my zealousness the cause

I flapped him down towards the ground

Right into Frilly’s claws

I had to pick her up and shake her

I admit I feared the worst

To pull the poor bird from her grasp

Might leave bits of him inversed

The birds were none the worse for wear

But outings now are few

They’ve both recovered from the shock

And I’ve recovered too!

The birds still yell abuse at them

From the safety of their cage

But cats can wait for ever

Revenge is sweet at any age

Now Binx thinks Frilly’s silly

And Frilly thinks Binx stinks

But Frilly’s willy-nilly

Each time she thinks of Binx

Then Binx thinks Frilly is a minx

And Frilly thinks Binx silly

So one thinks what the other thinks

And that’s my Binx and Frilly

5 September 2007

Poor Tickle died November 2009, a year after poor Squash

And Millie & Toots bought in January 2010, bright yellow and beautiful.