Mrs Eccles Walks on Air

"Got you, you little rascal!" she rasped and,
removing the broom-handle from my back wheel,
prodded me as I lay tangled in the bike.
"That'll teach you not to ride around here!"

Later, the smell of Dettol; and dark thoughts
about the old crow, pervaded my dreams.
Once more she thrust the broom: Then the strangest thing,
as it somehow lodged underneath the seat.
With her bird-like hands gripping the shaft
and her petticoats a-swish, she was
dragged bouncing and shrieking along the road.

What joy and delight as the children sang...

Tra-la-la-lee - There goes Mrs Eccles.
Dragged down the street like a Witch to the gallows.
Lets hope it's a good rope, strong and thick.
Put her in a noose and beat her with a stick.

Mark Ward
From Thunder Alley (Austigger Press 2008)

More poems by Mark Ward:

Haiku to the Fairground Goldfish
Junction 31

Mark Ward was born in Blackburn. He has worked on Alaskan radio, built film sets in Africa, worked for a New Zealand production company and worked at the Bronte Parsonage in Haworth.He currently works at the Wordsworth Trust as a guide and estate worker. He is the recipient of a number of writers' awards and has been shortlisted in the National Open Poetry Competition. His publications include: Used Rhymes (Aussteiger Publications). His new collection Thunder Alley: sonnets and other poems, was published by Austigger in May. He is currently collaborating with a visual artist on a series of poems and images about Morecambe Bay, for a publication and exhibition.