Nana Ollerenshaw: Three Poems

Paradise Gardens

Silence roars

no one hastens, or runs

were that possible

though every morning

Jack whirls past on his three wheel bike.

The tyres zing.

People introduce themselves

by the number of their house.

Some snip their way

through card table gardens

leaving packaged cuttings

carefully wrapped at the kerb.

Bushes shaved into lollipops

suggest an unreal wonderland.

At dusk windows flicker with blue light. Mortality is in the air.

Only the rare appearance of children

casts a stone in this pond.

They pick their nose. They laugh, jump,

shriek and cry

here in the safety of

twenty-four hour surveillance

and locked doors,

where few birds sing.

Nana Ollerenshaw

Coffee Drinker

He shambles to the cafe

defining the ground with his cane

and orders coffee black

suspenders holding up his pants

comb-lined hair slicked back.

Content with silence or dry word

the place, the caffeine taste

knowing the regulars

is what he likes

and talk of weather

a wife behind, content to be alone

as he is, knowing this will still be here

tomorrow when he’s back—

more memories of where he used to swim

with mates at tea bag bay

then on to other coffee camps

he’s sown along the track.

Nana Ollerenshaw

The Old Card Player

She is seen

but not heard.

Age has stolen her voice.

She snails around on wheels,

borrows books for company.

Strangers think she’s one screw loose

but nothing could be further from the truth.

She brings to cards a pencil, pad

to write what’s bottled up inside:

“My sister had car accident today,”

takes some time for her to “say”

but the ladies playing cards

pause, and sympathise.

She feels them draw around her.

A wish to win has fondly earned the name

“Assassin” though she doesn’t know.

Anxiety is in her eyes

of someone on the rack

but when she’s found a friend

becoming one with them

the beauty of a voice is handed back.

Nana Ollerenshaw