Tuesday 15 August 2017

WITTON, BIRMINGHAM: A NEW POEM...

Looking Back At Witton



The greyscale image
Misting around damp streetlights 
Hints at harsher times,
More frugal, less hurried;
Witton Circle, grim and tremulous,
A stark canvas for petty crimes
Perhaps, or where tough kids have scurried
Unseen, ignored and oblivious
To adults hunching inside the tavern,
Where beer blurs the daily drudge
Into hazy, blissful, unconscious drunken nights…  

The two ‘phone kiosks
Listing on paving blocks worn;
I see the Co-op I’ve shopped in sometimes
And to catch buses there I’ve tarried:
Witton island, its Belisha beacons alight,
A busy community near Aston Church’s chimes,
Where soccer fans have clashed and harried,
Uncouth, deplored and obnoxious
To true supporters, hunching inside the tavern,
Where beer has drowned rivalry’s grudges
But upon visiting spectators has poured vile scorn…

Pete Ray
August 2017

I would walk from my mother-in-law’s house on The Ridgeway where I would leave my car to watch Aston Villa play at home.

I have seen unpleasantness between supporters around there. Lots of it… 

The Aston Hotel always seemed to reek of beer, as one walked past…

The Circle was always busy, even on days when no match was being played. I have shopped at that Co-op in the image, made phone-calls from the kiosks, crossed the roads many times via those ‘zebra’ crossings and when I bought my first used car, a Ford Anglia in 1973, my brother-in-law accompanied me for my first drive as a learner through Witton, along Witton Road and on a hairy ride towards the ‘6-Ways’ roundabout…

I would be terrified.






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