The Driving Instructor


I needed rather a lot of driving lessons.

My lack of a sense of direction didn’t help.

Nor, did my occasional confusion

between right and left.

But, coming up to my test,

my new instructor was sympathetic.

We could go for a Sunday drive, he said.

I could have a free lesson

and maybe a drink after.

Well, why not?

He told me a story over the drink.

He’d been in the war in Singapore.

Such horror.

And conscripts all.

In the chaos 

an enemy soldier had shot his dog.

Shot her.

Killed her,

dead.

Such horror.

And conscripts all.

But, it was alright in the end,

he’d ‘got’ the one who did it.

‘Got him.’ 

Shot him! 

Killed him, 

dead.

Such horror.

And conscripts all.

The life of a man for the life of a dog.

Both shot.

Both killed.

Both dead.

It was the life of the man I valued most.

And I said so

using a lot of words.

Yes, rather a lot of words

loudly spoken.

So no more free lessons,

but I passed my test.


https://coldrambler.blogspot.com/2025/02/the-driving-instructor-by-lynn-white.html



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
  Photo Opportunity I watched the man crossing the path underneath the cascade of the waterfall. It had been part of the route wine was carried from the high lands, to be sold on the coast. Back in the old days, that was. But the old days weren’t very long ago. He seemed confident as he placed a foot carefully in each of the footholds hacked into the precipitous rock face. He gripped the thick metal hawser attached to the rock with strong metal rings. Gripped it firmly and proceeded slowly one step at a time. I had a camera and I thought that it was a picture he would like to have when he was dry and safe back on terra firma. Then I thought, suppose he falls, falls into the waves, to be smashed against the rocks far below. I didn’t want to have such a picture, a picture of someone’s last moments and I thought, to take it may jinx his journey and even cause him to fall. So I never took the picture. But it made no difference. The man fell anyway. https://coldrambler.blogspot.com/2024...
Read more
Image
  Frog She looked into the pond where the frog, sitting on a lily pad looked back at her alert   its eyes meeting hers. She remembered the story about a frog, how it became a prince when kissed. She thought of the sleeping beauty and how she awoke to the kiss of a prince. So, it seemed that kisses and princes must have some connection. The frog was very still. She thought it may be   still enough to kiss but she couldn’t quite reach though she tried and tried and tried while the frog stayed there still waiting.   And then it spoke. “I’m no prince,” it said. “But I’ll come closer, I’d still like a kiss.” https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/
Read more
Image
  On The Beach I’ve seen the towers many times pebbles piled up high all shapes and sizes finely balanced  temporarily against the incoming tide. I’ve admired them I thought them surreal, a little out of place. But I’ve become used to them, they’ve become an ubiquitous part of a normal beach scene no more hyper-real than the chocolate box images of thatch and English cottage gardens. Only the face or artifice  of Art. https://selfeducatingpoetsnetwork.org/2-poems-by-lynn-white/
Read more