Artwork

内容由Ann Perrin提供。所有播客内容(包括剧集、图形和播客描述)均由 Ann Perrin 或其播客平台合作伙伴直接上传和提供。如果您认为有人在未经您许可的情况下使用您的受版权保护的作品,您可以按照此处概述的流程进行操作https://zh.player.fm/legal
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Weaving Spells

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Manage episode 154500998 series 1125074
内容由Ann Perrin提供。所有播客内容(包括剧集、图形和播客描述)均由 Ann Perrin 或其播客平台合作伙伴直接上传和提供。如果您认为有人在未经您许可的情况下使用您的受版权保护的作品,您可以按照此处概述的流程进行操作https://zh.player.fm/legal

soft-focus-weaving-spells

Listen to Ann’s poem called Weaving Spells now – just press on arrow on this site.

https://annperrinpoetry.files.wordpress.com/2015/04/001-weavingspells.mp3

He was a magician to us
weaving spells with wood and clay.
Other people’s dads went to work
and reappeared for supper.

Ours spent his days
and most nights
carving marionettes
in his cluttered workshop.

He was always engrossed
kneading clay or carving wood,
the music of Glen Miller blaring
from a battered radio.

We would clink through the chaos
with mother’s homemade cakes,
the smell mingling with the stench of glue
boiling on an ancient cooker.

Our faces shone with shy smiles
as his hand took the teacup.
He had been whisked away to war,
we barely knew him.

We lived at Gran’s
and discovered him one day
in the hallway
with a battered trunk.

A soldier
in a coarse khaki uniform,
a clarinet in a case
and chocolate in his pockets.

  continue reading

17集单集

Artwork
icon分享
 
Manage episode 154500998 series 1125074
内容由Ann Perrin提供。所有播客内容(包括剧集、图形和播客描述)均由 Ann Perrin 或其播客平台合作伙伴直接上传和提供。如果您认为有人在未经您许可的情况下使用您的受版权保护的作品,您可以按照此处概述的流程进行操作https://zh.player.fm/legal

soft-focus-weaving-spells

Listen to Ann’s poem called Weaving Spells now – just press on arrow on this site.

https://annperrinpoetry.files.wordpress.com/2015/04/001-weavingspells.mp3

He was a magician to us
weaving spells with wood and clay.
Other people’s dads went to work
and reappeared for supper.

Ours spent his days
and most nights
carving marionettes
in his cluttered workshop.

He was always engrossed
kneading clay or carving wood,
the music of Glen Miller blaring
from a battered radio.

We would clink through the chaos
with mother’s homemade cakes,
the smell mingling with the stench of glue
boiling on an ancient cooker.

Our faces shone with shy smiles
as his hand took the teacup.
He had been whisked away to war,
we barely knew him.

We lived at Gran’s
and discovered him one day
in the hallway
with a battered trunk.

A soldier
in a coarse khaki uniform,
a clarinet in a case
and chocolate in his pockets.

  continue reading

17集单集

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