Poetry

Out of the Old School Yard

By 1st January 2006December 9th, 2019No Comments

Although I can’t remember exactly when it was,
It doesn’t seem so long ago the reason is because,
It was only just like yesterday, when I was in the old school yard,
Where I used to, run and hop, skip and jump, life then was not so very hard.

Being only eight years old, adult things were such a bore,
I would play at being pirates and forbidden places I’d explore.
I would do all the things that my Mum told me not to do,
I’d pinch Mister Ellson’s apples and bubble gum I’d sit and chew.

Can you remember only being four foot three?
All the places you could hide, in a cupboard or up a tree.
Playing at being soldiers with the gang from down the street.
Practice picking marbles up, with the toes upon your feet.

Dancing through rain puddles, in your shoes and socks.
Hiding your old pennies, inside your secret box.
Keep on asking for a dog, even after Dad said, “NO!”
Sneaking out to play with friends when your Mum said, ‘you could not go’.

Etching your initials on the bus stop down the road.
Playing football in the park, even though it was bitter cold.
Trying to smoke your first cigarette, behind the toilet door,
Tasting your first alcohol, then pretend to role about the floor.

For these are the things that we all did when we were eight,
Like playing kick the can, or swinging on a gate.
Going to the pictures to see you hero ‘Daniel Dare’,
A trip to see the circus or visiting a fair.

Going to your best friend’s house, just to play around.
Sneaking up, on your Dad, trying not to make a sound.
Helping out, with your Mum, to make the Christmas cake,
Pulling hard on Santa’s beard, to make sure it wasn’t fake.

Hiding you big sisters things, just to make her mad.
Breaking one of Mum’s best cups, then blaming it on Dad.
Telling Ann, your big brothers girl, that he’s just gone out with Joan,
Then pretending to be sick, so you could stay at home alone.

Interrupting everyone, just to be annoying.
Closing up your eyes so tight, you could not see where you were going.
Riding fast, upon your bike, without using hands or feet,
Sitting on the handlebars, when you should be on the seat.

Jumping over skipping ropes and nearly touch the sky.
Not being able to do those sums, no matter how you try.
Tasting sprouts then spit them out, and curling up your lip,
Then duck your head and wait for it, Dads famous backhand clip.

Keeping spiders in a box, just to frighten your big sister,
Hiding halfway up the stairs, while her boyfriend tries to kiss her.
Taking chances, when you shouldn’t, just to show that you are brave.
Spending all the money given, when you’re told that you should save.

Looking through the keyhole, just to see what’s hid inside.
Only having one best friend, in whom you can confide.
Kicking leaves on an autumn day, on the way back home from school.
Being naughty in the class by acting the stupid fool.

Making mum her birthday card, with love and no inhabitation’s
Being alive, without a care and not having to make decisions.
Playing ‘tick’ off the ground, and never being ‘on’.
Trying to be the last inside, so you could be alone when everyone has gone.

Noticing your big sister, has started changing shape,
But never knowing the reason why, she’s always asking for the measure tape.
Collecting conkers from the park and threading them with string,
Hardening them in vinegar, so you could be the conker king.

Opening Christmas presents, with the family around the tree,
Watching every-bodies face, as they open the presents sent from me.
Having to listen to the speech made by our beloved Queen.
Checking footprints in the snow to see where the reindeers been.

Planting seeds within a tub, then waiting for them to grow.
Hiding car keys, down the chair, because you did not want to go.
Kissing Grandma’ on the cheek, then wiping it away.
Kicking up an awful fuss so you could just go out and play.

Queue up for your school dinner, was the worst time of the day,
Then giving it to ‘fatty’, so you could just go out and play.
Putting pins, upon his chair, was just a foolish prank,
Then laughing at the screams of pain, as in his bum they sank.

Reading, ‘riting, ‘rithmatic, the three ‘R’s’ were such a bore,
The problem was if you did not do them right, the teacher gave you more.
Learning all your lines verbatim for the Christmas pantomime,
Then wishing you could catch a cold that would save you just in time.

Sucking ice-cream in a cone, from the bottom and not the top,
Then screaming out, as if in pain, as on the floor the lot would drop.
Following the rainbow to find that pot of gold,
Believing in every story that your father ever told.

Trying to be the best friend, of the girl from down the street,
Making secret rendezvous, so the two of you could meet.
Not knowing what to say to her, when she came-a-walking by,
Making up some poor excuse, knowing it to be a lie.

Understanding nothing, yet it must have all sunk in.
For the teachers did the job on me, spite my naughtiness and sin.
For the old school yards been good to me, throughout my lengthy years,
It’s brought me happiness in my memories, although sometimes there were tears.

Vampires, ghosts and ghoul’ies, used to frighten me at eight,
I used to hide, beneath the bed to await my ghastly fate.
I would feel such trepidation, I’d scream to wake the dead,
Then Mum would make me safe from harm, between the sheets upon her bed.

Waking up on Saturdays, was always easier than in the week,
I could then go out with friends, to play at hide and seek.
Tying up your shoe lace, on a cold and icy winters day,
Always seemed to hurt so much, even when at play.

X’plaining all your fibs away and getting your tongue into a mess.
Loving hugs from your Mum, because she didn’t love you any less.
Being best friends with your Dad and together going fishing,
Sitting quiet, upon the bank and just lying back and wishing.

Yesterdays are now dead and gone, ‘though young dreams still linger on,
This imagination can still be seen, in the mind of a younger one.
But memories are all we have of the time in the old school yard
And as we’re getting old, to bring them back is getting hard.

So let’s go…………

Zooming ‘round the old school yard with your arms stretched out into the air,
Pretend that you’re a fighter plane and don’t have a single care,
For these are the things, that so often just pleased me,
Never mind all that education and learning your “A B C”.

Peter Bruffell

Author Peter Bruffell

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