We all have that place, that only we know. The Old Rec. in Uttoxeter was that place for so many of us from town where we learned how to be citizens of the future. It was our teeth-cutting playground - usually a place of wonder. Sometimes not.
So, I've written a simple list poem, in no particular order, of memories that refuse to vacate my head whenever I think of my childhood playground.
This is a poem for the people of #Uttoxeter past and present; a poem about the playgrounds of childhood
As they say: You had to be there!
The Old Rec. The old big slide The backy ride The bumpy slope The screams of hope The witches hat The hungry gnats The fishing nets The wellies wet The sticklebacks The mossy cracks The minnow catch The seconds snatched The rolling hills The daffodils The daisy chains The grassy stains The legs off ground The Stoke train bound The secrets told The green and gold The Lido’s yells The distant bells The jump-off swings The lovesick flings The climbing frame The rounders game The prickly hedge The winter’s sledge The waterfall The old school hall The cows in streams The long lost dreams | The stagnant pond The broken bond The inner tube The Rubik’s cube The nuddy mag The lads that brag The shelter gone The did that’s done The Poohsticks race The toothy face The moment’s tick The names that stick The paddling feet The summer’s heat The balls in tights The bats at night The pigeon’s coo The feeling blue The bonfire night The graveyard fright The tightrope bar The first seen star The rope swing tree The scabby knee The place we knew The days we grew The childhood trek In our old rec. Mark Bird |
