Poetry Corner

Mar 13 2008

A FORMER Advertiser reporter has submitted Mr Fothergill’s Emporium to Poetry Corner.

The poem was inspired by an ironmonger’s in Shettleston called Fullarton’s Emporium.

Hazel Brown (48), of Wellhall Road, Hamilton, who graduated in 2002 with a BA in Further Education and now works as a sessional tutor, has been a member of several writing groups for a number of years.

She is a member of Hieton writers in Hamilton and is also involved with a group in the west end of Glasgow called Multistory who published a book in 2004 called “All the Gs”.

She said: “Last year I read my poetry in the Centre for Contemporary Arts, Goma, the Kibble Palace, and I read a short story and some poems on Sunny Govan radio and have been invited back to read again.”

Mr Fothergill’s Emporium

Mr Fothergill is a strange wee man,

Who owns a strange old shop,

Full of artefacts from far-off lands,

Mysterious and beguiling-things that call on you to stop.

Peculiar patterned parasols hanging from the ceiling,

Like flocks of pretty parakeets each dancing and a-reeling.

A fabulous old mirror in a gilded wooden frame,

But when you look into it-nothing seems the same.

Upside down or inside out - not true life at all,

Not even my own image-I’m sure I’m not that tall.

Now what’s this? An ancient wooden chest,

What will I buy-what do I like best?

“How can I help?” Mr Fothergill says to me,

“Is there anything that you want that isn’t here to see?”

“It’s all so very interesting-I can’t make up my mind.”

“I never knew this shop was here-it’s really quite a find!”

“Ah yes”, said Mr Fothergill: “We’ve been here for some time.”

“People don’t always see us-sometimes they are blind!”

“I think I know what you’re looking for.”

“Come with me please-it’s just beyond this door.”

And there it was-a truly amazing thing,

I gazed at in wonder-considering the pleasure it would bring.

“Oh yes Mr Fothergill-you can read my thoughts,”

“Wrap it up at once-it really must be bought!”

I took my purchase home and gave it pride of place,

When my friend saw it-a smile came to her face.

“Where is this shop-so I can buy one too?”

“It’s up in the town-come on and I show you.”

But when we got there Mr Fothergill’s was gone,

“I’m sure that it was here-it stood her on its own.”

I see Mr Fothergill’s sometimes here and there,

It never stays in the same place - how can that be fair?

When you need something rare, unusual and queer,

Suddenly Mr Fothergill’s Emporium appears,

In front of your eyes-a wee old fashioned place,

And there is Mr Fothergill-with a smile upon his face...