A poem by David White

It’s not every day that I get to say this, but today I have the pleasure of being the first person to publish a poem by someone. David White’s poem here is a very moving and amusing evocation of childhood. David lives in Alnwick, Northumberland. In fact, he lives on the same street as me! He’s the assistant editor of RnR Magazine¬†and he also publishes a local cultural guide called¬†The Beacon.


Andrew Maxwell, Superhero

We were superheroes once
Andrew Maxwell and I
My young friend
From two streets away
Our friendship one of those
That seemingly blossoms
From nothing
But happenstance

By the adventures
Of Superman, Batman
And countless others
The scourge of criminals
In a fictional universe
Our imaginations
Spurred us on

A towel
Draped around my neck
(Superman wore a cloak)
And a bathing costume
Worn over jeans
(Reality intruded
In this respect
No tights for us)
Similarly attired

Our mission
Righting wrong
Though whether
Truly populated
Our small 1960s
Backwater town
We thought
Probably not

We raced down back lanes
And along walls
Across roofs
In the summer-holiday-closed
Our invisible quarry
Against our determined
Youthful energies
And flights of fancy

No X-ray vision for us
No taking to the skies
No superpowers at all
To speak of
Save our imaginations
A powerful weapon
In the hands
(Or heads)
Of small boys

Our friendship
Would not last
I cannot now recall
Just why

I later heard
He did not live
To see
His teenage years

Yet Andrew
Remains with me
A fond memory

His face and much else
Besides about him
I cannot conjure now
In the way
We once
Were superheroes