The cupboard under the stairs, 1940.
Posted: 15 September 2012
Word Count: 218
Summary: Another autobiographical poem - not quite sure about the date - it must have been during the Blitz of London. If the anti-aircraft guns got a German plane over the coast,it would crash with the full load of bombs. The 'pips' were a high-pitched signal that enemy aircraft were dangerously near, so you had to listen first for the 'pips all-clear', then (sometimes a long time later) for the 'proper all-clear'.
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Bogey-hole we called it, but I wasn't scared.
A secret place to hide in, smelling of wax
and furniture polish. Candles just in case;
a soft rag-bag I plundered for doll's velvet.
Christmas baubles, camp-bed, Wellington boots.
Where did they go when the family invaded ?
What did we do with the wooden clothes horse,
the little brown Goblin vacuum cleaner ?
The peg-bag was still hanging inside the door,
but where was the wicker laundry basket ?
Me and my Mum and my Nan and the baby -
(Dad was away in the army of course) -
sitting together on the double eiderdown,
it must have been a tight fit. I wasn't scared,
though the wailing siren did its best to scare me.
Me in my siren-suit listening for the pips :
Pip! Pip! Pip! the planes getting nearer.
There go the guns, louder and fiercer.
Is that one of ours ? or theirs ? a falling whine,
a small silence... BOOM! the house trembles.
"That didn't last too long ... poor devils in London..."
Now its just waiting and waiting. At last the All Clear,
rising up,rising up-then holding its note firm and steady-
no dipping or wailing -oh angelic ringing and singing !
What joy, what relief! ... even though ...
I hadn't been scared...
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Comments by other Members
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 James Graham at 12:00 on 17 September 2012
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Good to see another childhood poem, Una. There are so many things in childhood, wartime or not, to memorialise in poetry. There’s always a pitfall in making such a poem too confined to its era, failing to touch on something universal, but this poem like your previous ones does reach out beyond the specific time and place.
War or no war, there are always things for children to be scared of. A dark cupboard, malevolent ‘bogey-men’. Some sort of imaginary evil being must have scared children ever since the Stone Age. Your poem brings this out - the ‘bogey-hole’ would still have been scary even if there had been no war, and anyone who wasn’t a child in wartime could still share the feeling.
But your poem says something else too. In wartime there are more things to frighten a child - but these are very real. They’re man-made. The scary old world every child is born into becomes even more terrifying.
On top of that, of course, you introduce a very engaging ‘twist’ - the child’s determination to be brave, not to be scared. This rings very true. Being scared inside, but not showing it. When the ‘proper all-clear’ sounds, you capture this beautifully: the joy of the ‘angelic ringing and singing’ reveals all - oh yes, she was scared, but it was hard pretending not to be, and now it’s over.
I wonder about stanza 2, which more or less just adds some more remembered objects and doesn’t carry the poem forward. But that’s a criticism from the point of view of general publication and what poetry editors might think; I know you’re not thinking in those terms but making a special collection of these poems, and so I imagine you would want to leave these details in, for interest. Especially the Goblin vacuum cleaner, which has a rather unnerving name!
I’ve read ‘On the Pier’ again, and I’m sure that in terms of craft, form, poetic technique etc it’s a better poem than this one; it’s one that would grace any anthology of contemporary writing. But this one has real quality too.
James.
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 Dave Morehouse at 13:44 on 17 September 2012
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I have only been here at WW since February but I love the autobiographic snapshots you have posted. They portray wartime life in the UK sensed through the eyes and ears of a young girl. It would be easy, perhaps even practical, to slip into a sensational narrative yet I read none of that in these poems. They are alive and share sentiments felt by young people everywhere. The historical details are simply a bonus. The real power in these poems is the manner in which you capture the thoughts and emotions of a young girl. You put the reader there in her shoes and in her thoughts. Thanks for sharing another of these with us. Dave
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 plurabelle at 12:29 on 19 September 2012
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Thank you, James and Dave, for your welcoming comments . You are right James, this is a less complex poem than the previous one (which turned out to be more painful when completed than I had realised while composing it.) But I'm glad that the childish bravado came across.
James, I wanted to reply to your 'circular' inviting me to join the Seminar group, but owing to my incomplete computer skills I have mislaid your email address. I have decided to join the Flash Poetry group instead, because I am more hopeful of being able to keep up with the commitment, in view of my uncertain energy supply.
Una.
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James Graham at 16:26 on 21 September 2012
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It would have been good to have you in the Seminar group, Una, but I know how it is - there isn't time for everything!
James.
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 Midnight_Sun at 09:38 on 26 September 2012
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Hi Una,
sorry for the late reply, i'm just so behind at the moment.
I enjoyed this poem very much, and right from the beginning I'm transported into that 'bogey-hole' with you
smelling of wax
and furniture polish. |
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and you try to turn the frightening experience of an air raid into something fun, as if you are playing a game of hide-and-seek.
I love how you give us a snapshot of the everyday life; even though there is a war on the chores will still be done; the laundry and the hoovering
the wooden clothes horse,
the little brown Goblin vacuum cleaner |
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Your hide-away is indeed a bogey-hole since you have a little brown 'Goblin' in there 
The words you use in the first stanza to describe items in the 'bogey-hole' are words strongly associated with childhood such as dolls, camping and Christmas. I think this is echoed in the last stanza
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it feels almost like you are celebrating Christmas.
I have enjoyed this glimpse into your childhood, Una.
Thanks for sharing it,
Patricia
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 FelixBenson at 10:38 on 26 September 2012
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It's fascinating to see this well-known (but not often captured in Poetry) activity so clearly from a child's eyes. But those questions about where some of the items were moved to (that made space in the bogeyhole for the family), bring this poem back to the present day, and that's the poet looking back and wondering about the details that are lost. The details that are remembered are vivid though, especially this strong feeling of not being afraid. James is right, we can see the opposite is true, but still it's impressive, looking back, considering that huge danger, a remarkable thing, to be so determined not to be afraid - determined not to be a child, or like a girl perhaps, wanting to be or feel grown up and in control of this strange situation. The relief of hearing the 'all clear' is beautifully conveyed - a sort of heavenly salvation.
But what a strange situation it is - I like the way the bogeyhole, which is normally used to house all these things that we need but don't want in sight or are of no interest usually (especially to a child), suddenly become a focus. What this poem shows is how everything is in the wrong place. The family squashed together on the eiderdown, at the bottom of the house in the dark, facing this great danger in the company of the peg bag and the hoover. It shows in a subtle yet effective way how war turns that natural order of things and gives a strange new perspective on ordinary, quotidian life.
I've really enjoyed reading this, Una.
Kirsty
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plurabelle at 14:09 on 30 September 2012
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I'm so pleased, Patricia and Kirsty, that you found so much to comment on in 'Cupboard under the stairs'. Although I enjoyed re-visiting these memories (after all, nothing actually unpleasant happened to us there), I feared that the poem might come over as a bit simplistic or shallow. Probably I was protected by ignorance at 8 years old - I remember being much more seriously scared during the 'doodle-bug' period when I was 13. I hope I will get the energy to write at least two more episodes during the winter (i.e. non-gardening time).
Una.
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 V`yonne at 16:50 on 08 November 2012
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I loved the way you wondeed where the wooden clothes horse had gone those details and I loved the sound of the all-clear siren you in your siren suit too lovely! I could almost smell that cubby hole!
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