Salt Suds for Keeps

Poems that are rooted in time and location, and octogenarian Brian Farrington  delves into memory to conjure a ‘triumphant mumbling of the blood’ . His open approach instantly appeals— and he’s trading sex for the love of model steam engines. Observations fluctuate between amusing quirkiness, such as the ugly feet of swans, to honest episodes of uncluttered love. Perhaps, though, the intensity conveyed at the drowning of his infant daughter [Shevaun] is absolute, from the haunting questions at self and faith, to the bitter resignation that time is a healer. Be it the Pyrenees or the coast of Clare, Springtime in Graz or Armagh, always there’s a gravity of feeling. As a ten year old, he bids farewell on the Liverpool-Dublin boat, returning from his first visit to that ‘cockayne country England’, where aunts eat cake, going home to beloved Ireland.

Innisfree

One time it was heaven and home, and then for years
it was thighs, proud nipples, pubic hair;
now when my mind relaxes into sleep
I hanker after a small brass steam engine.

Smell of hot oil and methylated spirit,
cylinder and mounting sliding sweetly together,
the exhaust steam blowing and the regular mutter
of reciprocating crank and big-end bearing.

Don’t get me wrong, I was never a one for models,
never gullivered around some dinky lilliput,
I don’t want you to buy me a toy, I could never make
the exact brass pieces, their accurate sliding fit.

But I lie here and dream of an oscillating cylinder,
or maybe two cylinders with the cranks at 90 degrees,
a flywheel with bright red spokes and a shining rim;
the meaning and movement all so simple and plain.

Bio: Brian Farrington was born in Dublin in 1925. Before coming to Scotland 40 years ago he lived in France. Until retiring he was Director of Aberdeen University Language Centre. He is known internationally as a designer of language learning software. He has published poetry, a study of W. B. Yeats and research articles on language learning and French linguistics.