another secret one : The Lad Who Drew Ellipses.

for this one I am indebted both to Jim at The Truth a bout Lies and to The Writers' Island prompt: Secrets. It was Jim's comment on my original response to the prompt (for which scroll down 2 posts) which led to this poem - and do I feel a series coming on?


Ex-officer, ex-guards -
or so he'd say, although
he seemed too short to me -
but now a clerk-of-works,
his office a small shed
with panoramic view
of all the square bashing
his stalwart heart could wish.

Teased by sub-contractors -
one in particular -
whose knowledge he'd rely
upon to see him through.
The open secrecy
with which he led his life
had never helped his cause.

Each Friday he'd arrive,
small brown attache case
and polka dot bow tie,
the usual bowler hat.
Then enter "Irish Tom",
one trouser leg rolled up.
"Off out this ev'ning George?
Where's it to be tonight?"
And then he'd waddle back
and forth and slap his sides
with dead straight arms and quack.
"Quack, Georgie Boy, Quack! Quack!
And kiss the nice duck's arse!"

And George would look at me:
"Do you know how to draw
ellipses lad?" he'd ask.
"I think so, George," I'd say.
And taking tapes and DIM *
books we would go. Again
he'd look and this time say:
"I'm not allowed to tell
you lad, on pain of death!"
"I know," I'd tell him, "and
I do not need to know.
We all have secrets, George."

In truth, I never had
to draw him an ellipse.
It was a code - one known
to all - that meant: let's go!
Just something that George said.
It got me known though, as
the lad who draws ellipses.

*DIM book: Dimensions Book - a note book ruled rather like a single cash book in which we wrote our measurements and calculations.