No More Smiles At Evensong
- August 5, 2022
Reading Time: 2 minutes
Let me set the scene: It is a cold Winter's day and I am homesick. I have only seven years and my red knees are frozen - sticking out, knobbly, from under short grey trousers. Out of the scullery door I can see the field and hear, in it, the slow chugging of the school generator. The light bulb swinging and slightly dimming between each generated chug. The smell of gaberdine rain-macs hung up to dry, And above the macs are cauliflowers hanging "to improve their flavour": It is a sickening combination! Shortly - because it is Sunday - we will have to wash and change into our cassocks and ruffles, then file solemnly, in pairs, along the pathway to the adjoining village church. Michael, a village boy, fourteen of thereabouts, will stand at the very back pumping the bellows up and down feeding the organ's greedy pipes. Before I move towards the front I can see Michael and as usual he catches my eye and smiles. A crooked missing-teeth smile, but friendly all the same. He alone isn't at all phased by us Choristers being 'toffs'. I smile right back and then I move up front and wait for the grumpy headmaster's baton to command my soprano notes. Every Sunday is the same - save for the next in line when Michael is replaced by a wheezing farmer of great age it seemed to me. At Choir practice on Monday evening the headmaster imparts the news that tomorrow we will be "doing a funeral". I am afraid of coffins, and refuse. Result - six strokes of his stinging cane and sent to bed in disgrace. After the funeral other boys relate that Michael was killed when he played in the field with his father's shotgun. I cried that Michael was gone, foreseeing loneliness and... no more smiles at Evensong. © Allen Ansell 2022
Douglas Moody
1 year agoWhen this was posted on PoetBay I offered this comment: ‘A poem and a story; a skill you use in abundance; it carried me along to the final twist. Bravo Allen’.
Kiula Joel Shagile
1 year agoWonderful . It is the ability to make the reader focus on the whole atory and create images of the whole poem while reading it. I love how you play with words and how you narrate the whole story..Beautiful.
Allen Ansell
1 year agoAs I have said before, writing can be a very ‘lonely’ art: You usually write alone, thoughts that are primarily yours alone, and when the writing is done all that is left is for someone else – apart from you – to read those words. To have someone read your work and then write a comment such as yours is really rewarding to my whole being, and I thank you sincerely.
Allen
Mike
10 months agoThis is a beautifully written piece that evokes a strong sense of emotion and atmosphere. The imagery of the cold winter day, the sickening smell of wet gaberdine raincoats and cauliflower, and the lonely and homesick young boy all come together to create a poignant and powerful scene. The character of Michael, with his friendly smile and comforting presence, adds a touch of hope and humanity to the story. The boy’s fear of coffins and his guilt over not being able to sing at Michael’s funeral, as well as his foresight of loneliness without Michael’s friendly smile, adds depth and complexity to the story. The story is a perfect illustration of how the sense of loneliness can be alleviated by small human interactions. Overall, it’s a moving and well-crafted piece of writing.
Allen Ansell
10 months agoThank you for your generous comment, Mike. I’m pleased that you enjoyed it.
Allen
Allen Ansell
10 months agoThank you, Mike, for such a detailed comment on something you have clearly found worthy of such consideration. I appreciate this very much.
Blessings, Allen