Betting on a Photo

On the back of a picture of me as a nipper
are the names of four horses in sixpenny
doubles, trebles and a roll-up. I’m bearing
the stamp of my father already,
his fancy to gamble on anything moving.

I try to imagine when it was written:
rationing over - no shortage of paper;
betting illegal but under the counter;
in a hurry, late for work or the boozer,
sure it wouldn’t be lost by my mother.

I search all the snaps in the family albums
wondering if photos became lucky omens
and betting on them a common occurrence.
They didn’t. I only discover an absence -
not an instance of father and son together.

Here’s Dad and Mom at their wedding reception,
the NO EXIT sign to the left and behind them.
There’s him with his mates, pints of mild and Park Drive;
long sideburns and roll-neck, black leather jacket,
just like an extra from out of The Sweeney.

Here am I starring at football and cricket,
posing with Mom in the grammar school outfit;
my hair curling outward from Elvis to Hendrix;
early promise failing to see out the distance -
he’s probably studying form at the bookies.

At the end in his armchair with my eldest daughter
leafing their way through a scrapbook of pictures,
I can just see my leg in the top right hand corner.
As he neared the line we drew a bit closer,
but never enough for a photo finish.

About This Poem

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Country/Region: England

Favorite Poets: John Cooper Clarke , Fleur Adcock , Carol Anne Duffy , Derek Mahon

Comments

Geezer

5 months 3 weeks ago

Yeah...

the absentee father. I get it; having been there and done that myself. It seems that I wasn't too good at marriage, and I became what I despised my father for. Ironic? Nah, stupid. Anyway, I felt this and if I had been writing during that time, I surely would have said the things that you have here. The metaphors were great and if I had to pick a couple of lines... "As he neared the line, we drew a bit closer,
but never enough for a photo finish." Although, just to make it clear, I would have said; "As he neared the [finish] line, all in all, nice stuff. ~ Geezer.

Candlewitch

5 months 3 weeks ago

hello Ray,

I am not certain, but this may be the first poem of yours that I have responded to. I am sorry for that... I feel a bit tung-tied in the presence of your bold and forceful creativity. I am going to venture forth and try to do your poem justice.

In the first verse you seem to say, you are emerging from behind your father's vivid shadow to come into your own path. I admire your colorful words which are well chosen.

In the second verse, this line does not sound quite right:

(betting illegal but under the counter;)

it is the word: (but) that is bothering me. It feels unnecessary maybe choose another word? this is just a suggestion of course.

as the poem continues, I feel a fading of your fathers influence. As other things, like your own family's happenings come forward. I like your poem, tho' some words are foreign to me. I think I got the gist of this piece.

I will read more of your work and comment

questing forward, may the holidays coming bring you joy. (I know you have different holidays than I do.) cordially, Cat

Lavender

5 months 3 weeks ago