The Camera is a Clock

Tick Tock
Click snap
Wind it on
Don’t forget
Don’t want doubles
Just a sec
Wait a minute
Just a tick
Snapshot
Selfie
Click Click Click
What’s the time?
I don’t recall
Smile please
That is it
Want to see it
What a face
Lovely hands
What time is it?
I don’t know
It’s not a clock

Inspired by Roland Barthes comparison between the mahogany body, brass trimmings and mechanical tick of a clock with the similar construction of old cameras and the mechanical click of the shutter, in his book Camera Lucida.

Alistair J Parker
3rd December 2014

Alistairs First Day at School

A snapshot found
Between the pages
Of me it seems
Just one of many
A Family snap
An awkward pose
Upon the path
Standing alone
I clutch a book
The polished shoes
My cap in place
Stand just there
Dad speaks to me
You look the part
We stand there tall
Our shadows fall upon the wall
His sleeves are rolled
On muscled arms
He points the camera
Doesn’t look

He’s looking down 

But not at me

I’m framed within

The tiny box

The lens it squints

With just one eye

Smile he says

I hear a click

Just one more

Should do the trick

He winds the knob

It clicks again

Not sure I smiled

No not again

The ritual unfolds

Just as before

One quick snap

A special day

What was the day

I don’t recall

First day at school

That could be right

A little note

May shed some light

The words they say its 53 

That can’t be right

Would make me nine

The date I’d say is 49

The photo’s mute

It cannot tell

Memories I need

To break the spell

I know the place 

But not the day

Remembering, it’s hard to say

The written facts 

Stand in the way

Frail memories 

Have gone away

What was that very special day

This is a snapshot of me taken by my father on the occasion of my first day at school, probably my second school but that is another question and the basis for a PhD thesis that I am researching and mentioned in the words of the poem. I am standing outside of the Prefab bungalow on the Belle Vale estate on the outskirts of Liverpool, where I lived from age 4 till 8.  This is an Ekphrasis rather than a poem

 Alistair J Parker

2nd December 2014 

Ode to a Tree

Roots run
Rings grow
Trunks soar
Boughs break
Branches sway
Twigs twine
Leaves turn
Russet brown
Flutter down
Autumn mists
Crispy frost
Wicked Wind
Blow and blow
Trees are bare
Snow falls
Melts away
Sun shines
Spring springs
Buds burst
Leaves uncurl
Green bright
Seeking light
Breath in
Breath out
Waft and wave
Tall and great
Trees are live
Trees are life
Talk to them
Tell them all
How magnificent
How great
How tall
A Tree

You cannot help but notice trees at this time of year, their leaves are everywhere, magnificent things that they are...

Alistair J Parker
14th November 2014

Rain on the Window

The window ledge was deep yet narrow
Wall each side thick and old
The plant pots been moved
It's gone away
It's now a place for me to play
Dinky cars roll back and forth
The brum of engines squeal of tyres
The sounds of cars
Drowns out the rains
The spots splish splash again again
The rivulets run down the pane
The rain comes down and down and down
It smears the windows, spoils the view
The view is grey it blocks the way
A truly truly awful day
Outside the pebble path shines bright
Pebbles glisten wet with light
Contrast the great big concrete step
Around the edge a pattern zigs
It zigs and zags and zags and zigs
The red brick marks around the edge
Rubbed and rubbed
So carefully made
Are washed away
They will return another day

A constant source of inspiration for poetry is "The Barracks" my paternal grandfathers home in south west Scotland where I spent my childhood holidays. The old stone building had walls about 3 ft thick, the kitchen had only on small window with a big deep window ledge on which I used t play on a wet day with my Dinky toys.

Alistair J Parker
8th August 2014

My Bruver

My brother was a little squirt
All goggled eyed and curly haired
He peddled there and peddled here
In an old tin jeep with his teddy bear

He posed for photos as I clicked away
Went to Port Erin while I was a way
Got caned by the bruvers at Old SFX
He moved with the old folks to Wirral on sea

Drove round in a special, the envy of me
Labs and computers floated his boat
But something deeper trying to get out
Family ain’t easy with the peaks and the troughs

Hearts may be broken like (twigs on a) bough of a tree
Searching for something that nurtures the soul
Creativeness calling it has to be scratched
Helped by a soul mate a mermaid with curls

The pen and the words paper are starting to flow
The words and the ideas are raring to go
Baldy and brainy, witty and bright
My brovers a winner a wizzo with words

He’ll read this and chuckle and file in the bin
But I love him to pieces and I’ll love no less
His birth I remember with joy and with tears
We’ve grown together over many long years

Enjoy the day and shun the years
Happy Birthday buv

Self explanatory really, a birthday poem for my brother who is 13 years my younger but a great mate, now!

Alistair J Parker
8th August 2014

The Snapshot Moment

Snapshot, click
Snapshot, snap
Snapshot, now
Snapshot, then
Snapshot old
Snapshot new
Capture the moment
Remember for eve
Precious and priceless
Dog eared and torn
Memories, memories
Click, snap and click
Snapshots are memories
Taking us back
Remember the moment
Remember it well
Look at the photo
Remember and tell
Tell them the story
It comes rushing back
Sharing the moment
That starts with a smile
Remember the click
Awkward no style
Posing all stiff like
Stand over here
Stand still and smile please
Moment in time
Capture the moment

My academic studies in fine art over the past 12 years or so have been very much involved with photography and snapshot photography in particular, the subject has inspired a number of poems of which this is one.

Alistair Parker
26th January 2014

The Holly and the Ivy

Holly & ivy
Glitter & gloss
Opening prezzies
Plastic and paper
All twisted and torn
Lots of excitement
Stuffing and mulling
Parcels and pudding
Turkey and trimmings
Carrots and spuds
Eating and snoozing
Playing and snoring
Walking and windy
Blow sprouts away
Get yourself comfy
Squeeze up on the couch
Time for a port
And stinky old Stilton
Felling quite mellow
Stuffed to the gills
What’s on the telly?
Morecambe and Wise
Less of two evils
Let’s play Charades
Miming and cheating
It’s all in good fun
Another one over
It’s soon time to go
Here’s to next one
The turkeys all gone
Let’s hope there’s a next one
We’ve all had such fun

A reflection on the excitement and excesses of Christmas...

Alistair Parker
1st January 2014

The Pose

Stand there,
Not like that,
Like this,
That’s right,
Just hold it,
Move your hand,
Turn you’re your feet,
Toes apart,
Comb your hair
Look this way,
Turn to me,
You, not you,
That’s just right,
Hold it there,
Keep it still,
A great big smile,
Say cheese,
Hold it,
Snap,
Nice one.

As mentioned elsewhere I have a preoccupation with photography and snapshot photography in particular. This is one of the first poems I wrote.

Alistair J Parker

27th December 2013