Welcome to Poem Oggle
Well Summer did come and what a summer. Don't believe anyone who says it was not beautiful. It was a summer to remember, the summer of 2014.
Now it is nearly over, we are hanging on to the last vestiges of what has been a dreamy heaven to many who still cannot believe their luck.
But what has arrived at Neath?
The September Fair.
The Fair granted to the people of Neath by King John over a thousand Years ago.
What comes with the Fair?
Did someone say the Rain?
Not on Poem Oggle it does not.
On Poem Oggle we get a wonderful poem written especially for the September Fair
Welcome back Paul
In Early September we would be back in school
after the 6 week Summer Holidays
and then a week later the Fair would come to town.
The teacher would hand a ticket to each of us
in the class for a free ride of our choice
at the Fair on Wednesday evening.
There are 4 comprehensive schools in Neath, Cwrt
Sart, Dwr-y-Felin, Cefn Saeson and Llangatwg.
Each school had free tickets for a separate evening,
It was to try and stop us fighting, it did not work!
I would get home from school at 13 years old,
quickly change into my Fred Perry, burgundy sta-press
trousers, Doctor Martin boots and Crombie coat.
Then I would meet the boys at Stockhams Corner
where we would leave The Melyn via the subways
and head on up to the top of Windsor Road.
The whole town had suddenly changed,
every street in the middle of Neath was packed
with stall next to stall, on both sides of each street.
It looked like something out of a film, a Welsh rain-
soaked (It always rained at the Fair, it was the law!)
‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’ a ‘Robin Hood’
or one of the old ‘Sinbad’ films of yesteryear.
My Grampa used to say that because of the stalls
Neath September Fair was the biggest in Briton.
I absolutely loved it, we would spend 2 or 3 hours
just wandering slowly around the street stalls
just saying “Hello” to the people who we recognised
and watching the sellers demonstrate the weird things
that they were selling, it was like watching Magicians.
They would have plastic cutting devices that would
chop, dice, juice and peel, fruit and veg in a flash.
They would have all kinds of miracle cleaners,
they would throw coffee and earth and red wine
all over a piece of carpet and then rub it in,
then they’d get some plastic piece of apparatus
and with a quick swipe left and right it would be clean.
There would be Gypsy Caravans wanting you
to cross their palms with silver for a fortune reading.
There would be a man with a beach towel worth £7,
(It was worth £7 because he told you so!)
But he wouldn’t sell you it for £7, that would be too easy,
He would hold up another towel worth £5
and stick that with the £7 towel, then add 3 £3 towels
Slap his hands together loudly and shout
“The whole lot for £5, I’m letting you rob me
but I’m a nice bloke, I can’t help it, £5 the lot missus,
We have 10 sets left, who wants a set?
you with the blonde hair and the beautiful smile
in the sky blue dress down the front, lovely?”
Then we would make our way over to the stalls
in The Angel Pub car park were they had a record stall
and I had excitedly bought my ‘Son Of Oi! album from.
With my new 33rpm Vinyl tucked under my arm
all that was needed now was for us all to get
a ‘Kiss Me Quick, Squeeze Me Slowly’ trilby hat
so everyone could tell that we were Melyn Boys
and out after the towns prettiest girls.
With a burger with onions and tomato ketchup in hand
we would walk on over to the actual fairground,
over in the massive car park past The Duke Pub
and across the road behind Neath Castle.
Where we would walk a circuit of the grounds twice,
watching the older boys shooting the guns to win
teddy bears for their girlfriends
and the young Mams and Dads trying to win goldfish
for the younger kids busily eating candy-floss and fudge.
Finally we would make our stand up on the Easy Riders
or the Waltzers, with our backs to the painted railings,
three or four of us sharing a single No. 6 cigarette.
Smoking like gangsters, whilst eyeing up the Cefn Saeson,
Dwr-y-Felin and Llangatwg girls stood smiling opposite.
© Paul Tristram 2013
May we take this opportunity to thank all those who have given us leave to peruse their poetry and what an honour it has been.
Some of the poetry you will read here, has never before been seen by people outside the authors close circle.
Our poets have been brave, they have offered us the opportunity to print their work and we thank them and hope that they will continue to write to make us smile, cry and sigh with emotion.
Each poet we have showcased deserves to be known, each in their own genres are unique.
Thank you all
Express yourself as you have never done before - and you never know what may happen after others have seen your work.
Send in your offerings, pour forth in poetic verse which will be evaluated for you by those who have written poetry for a long time themselves and know the pitfalls and the joy of the art form.
So there you have it, something that will be satisfying to you while giving pleasure for others.
What's in it for us? Just the satisfaction of helping others. But if you make mountains of cash after starting off on this website you are very welcome to put a cheque in the post!
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