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Pudding<\/strong><\/p>\n We ate our meals with hair-raising intensity. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Miki Byrne<\/strong> has had three collections of poetry published and work included in over 170 respected poetry magazines\/anthologies. She has won poetry competitions, been placed in others and read on both Radio and TV. Miki began reading her work in a Bikers club in Birmingham.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Pudding We ate our meals with hair-raising intensity. Corked our ears in the joy of savouring, bored by repetition as the iron grip of history held Dad in full throat. His achievements poured over our meals like sauce, invited cheers, a promise to follow. We felt pounded. Rolled like dough into ginger-bread […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11825","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11825","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11825"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11825\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11826,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11825\/revisions\/11826"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11825"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11825"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11825"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nCorked our ears in the joy of savouring,
\nbored by repetition as the iron grip of history
\nheld Dad in full throat.
\nHis achievements poured over our meals like sauce,
\ninvited cheers, a promise to follow.
\nWe felt pounded. Rolled like dough
\ninto ginger-bread replicas.
\nHis bright-future plans hot as spice in our eyes.
\nHis hope as urgent as a pregnant woman\u2019s
\ncraving for chutney and ice cream.
\nEverything became easier with compliance
\n\u2014silence helped to brave both lives
\n\u2014ours, in which we climbed, grazed knees,
\npeered through knot holes, scrumped apples,
\nand the one Dad lived for us, neat as napiery.
\nOur lives were a table laid with possibilities,
\nbirthday cakes\u00a0 markers of endurance,
\ntaking us closer to success, wealth, comfort for him
\nin his white-haired armchair years.
\nHis voice would flavour the very air,
\nwrap our fingers en-croute as they clutched knives,
\nforks, held\u00a0 just so, as he desired.
\nWe would simply wonder what pudding might be.<\/p>\n