Roaring “Rag and Bone”
Bellowing “Rag and Bone”
Poorhouse strays, poverty weighs
Pawnshop dray, debtors pay
Loanshark says,
change your ways
Or else….we’ll end your days.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
The challenge that Frank set at d’Verse was to create a poem in trimeter. I had to think and try really hard and I am not sure if it is or isn’t so hopefully it is. Frank said “For this challenge, write a poem that uses trimeter lines. All of the lines in the poem do not have to be in trimeter, but enough should be so that one can tell this meter was used on purpose. The poems do not have to rhyme nor must they have any other sound qualities about them.
The rag and bone man used to come along our road in the 1970’s shouting “Any old iron” in fact we used them a bit like a swap shop, we put things on the cart and sometimes we took something in return. I was a child.
The image was labelled for reuse from Flickr and was actually from Newcastle libraries. this went with the photo:
Tor623, Rag and Bone Man, Newcastle upon Tyne
Description: Laszlo Torday arrived in Tynemouth in January 1940 from Hungary and took most of his photographs of Tyneside during the 1960’s and 1970’s. They reflect his interest in the streets and people of Newcastle especially of central Newcastle and the suburbs of Heaton and Jesmond. : The physical collection held by Newcastle Libraries comprises 100 photograph albums of black and white prints plus 16 boxes of colour transparencies. We are keen to find out more about them.
Nice poem using trimeter in some of its lines. I liked the ominous ending with the threat from the loan shark. If too many people did not change their ways, it would be the loan shark who would be in trouble. Interesting memory of the rag and bone man who was also a traveling swap shop. I grew up on a farm and did not see this part of town life.
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aha..I have thoughts in my head telling me da um da dum dadum..I am trying another..
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I’d never heard of a rag and bone man, so this poem was fascinating to me. Thank you!
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The childhood memory (it sounds wonderful) adds a beautiful dimension to the poem. It’s a delightful rhythmic treat!
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In the 1950’s some of the Salford and Manchester “rag and bone” men earned more each day than people who were in good jobs.
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Wow! Isn’t thag amazing! The pay for their hard work.
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I like the sound that built up to that scary ending. Your poem brought to mind a picture of a mafia boss saying the words.
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