writer

Black-balled, a poem

Hello and welcome to my blog. As trailed on Monday, it’s time to personalise this space and the most personal thing I can share is my fictional writing.
     I feel that fiction exposes so much more than autobiographical information. It reveals what makes people tick; the bit inside that drives you to stand in the middle of No Man’s Land, yelling “OI! LISTEN UP!” That’s what happened when I wrote Black-balled. I was so incensed by the injustice meted out to Medieval Jewish money lenders that I seized my pen and wrote this.
   

Black-balled 
by Liz Coward
“Can I please join?” said Master Green
eyes eager, smile upon his lips.
“Regret you can’t,” sneered Master Dick, 
“but it’s your dress. It does not fit.”
The newly styled Green returned, 
eyes searching, smile hesitant.
“Can I join now, please Master Dick?”
“Sorry kynd Sir, it can’t be done.
It’s just your beard, a bit too long.”
A freshly coiffed Green appeared,
eyes sad, smile fading crookedly,
“Can I join now, please Master Dick?”
The cold-heart said, “My hands are tied.
Gilders, maybe, will loose the knot.”
One year on, hunched Green arrives,
eyes wary, smile long since gone.
“Good Morrow Sir. It’s Master Green. 
A year has passed, I’ve given much.”
“Ah, Green, thank you. You have been kynd,
but things aint’ changed. In ten in years time?”
A decade on, poor Green comes in, 
eyes empty, mouth a bitter line.
“Can I now join your company?
Gain freedom of your feir city?
My money’s gone, all spent by thee on
your East Cheape Fraternity.”
“I’m sorry Green,” laughed Master Dick,
“Yes, thank you for your many gifts.
Indeed, your largesse built this place,
Your name in underneath the Mace.
But rules are rules, see written thus, 
that “Jews are never one of us.”
     Black-balled was written in November 2002 and was inspired by a London Walk through the old Jewish Quarter.  I hope you enjoyed it.
     Next week, I’ll be back in the 21st century with a feature on the beach. 
     Thanks for dropping by and have a great week.

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