Live Encounters Poetry & Writing Volume Five November-December 2024
Spellbound, poem by Richard Clarke.
Spellbound
As a pale, puny boy, while my freckled friends boasted
they would be firemen, soldiers, pop stars
I dreamed of becoming a magician.
I sent away for the cape, the magic cards,
the wand and top hat then
made my debut at my grandparents’ golden anniversary.
“This Master of Illusion has performed
in front of the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Kent
and several other dubious public bars,’
announced my smirking uncle Kevin, introducing me
to the expectant aunts and cousins
who applauded each trick dutifully.
Later that year an actual conjurer, bearded and grey,
stood outside redbrick Berala Public School,
handing out leaflets promoting his solo show.
I grabbed a handful to pass around in class.
Not one of my mates was keen
but I was first in line the next afternoon
straight after school at the church hall. The magician,
Merlin the Mysterious, (working to a tight budget?)
stood genially taking tickets at the door but
blanched when I said in my piercing,
newly broken voice how much
I’d enjoyed his show the year before.
I soon knew why. Every trick was the same.
As was the patter.
No one else seemed to know or care but
now I’m old and grey I know Merlin must have mastered true magic
because after fifty years his performance remains
unforgettable.
© Richard Clarke
Richard Clarke was a poetry teacher for forty years but has spent only four years as a poet. His poems have been published in Australia and the USA, since retirement rekindled his muse.