Lieutenant Commander Henry Mirehouse RNtaught us Latin for a term, but his health
was unreliable and he didn’t stay for long.
He had old fashioned whiskers and flinched
when we banged our desk lids because he’d
been wounded by Chinese shellfire as his
ship ran the gauntlet of the Yangtze river.
We banged our lids more often and his face
grew red and angry when we laughed so that
I felt guilty, and became his friend. And one day
he gave me an old fan that had belonged
to his mother. I treasured it until it crumbled
into dust like the awkward correspondence
I wished I’d taken the trouble to maintain.
Years later I heard he’d died alone at his home
on the Lizard, aged 58. The Coroner’s verdict:
‘Death by enemy action.’
John H Davies
May 9th 2011
I have just read your beautiful poem "Chinese Whispers" and found it very moving. I also like the quote on your profile from a fellow Welshman, except I'm a Welsh Lady of Ancient years.
ReplyDeleteYou posted this in May of this year and I was wondering if you are still in Sudan and if you have written anything over there. I am off to South Korea for a month in October and hope for inspiration from this wonderful country.
Maybe you can reply if you have the chance. Dodie, of Dodies Dream World, my blog page. aka Dorothy of Pontybodkin in Beautiful Wales.
My Dear Dodie - I was so bad at this you must have thought I didn't care - so for what it's worth may I sat diolch ! I am back in South Sudan ploughing a furrow that doesn't seem to lend much to poetry - but that is my failing - a belated thank you for your kind words...
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