Old Sulians' Association

Tony Sweet – A Poem from Mike Oura

Mike Oura, former Deputy and Acting head at School, sent me this tribute to Tony Sweet who he knew well.
In National Poetry Week it seem both opportune and appropriate.
 
Tony Sweet
Where Oldfield, stone and solid school, well stood.
Now demolished, destroyed and
Deleted by soaring constructions of new Academe
Brown-tiled, pupil-proofed classrooms
Piled into dust
Where once an overseeing Head had several-sight
From raised rostrum, of strict classes.
Shut the lidded desk and, register called,
The black-gowned are departed.
 
A morning has broken, ushering a
Chip and byte-bound world to new
Bright-eyed and shining students
Where still a blackbird sings.
 
Time changes_ Systolic and Diastolic
The blood beats out our seconds. Pausing
Reaction slows to the skull
To the slack, sagged jawed
Decease.
 
Now sober-suited amidst the subdued clamour
Of our pre-Christmas town,
We gather on church steps,
Like rooks alighting.
All are lives once touched by his
Disparate flock, academic and those, like him,
Who knew the thrill of the charging rush
From twenty five yard line to winning,
Three point try.
 
Heavy front-row forwards hunching
Hesitate on half forgotten hymns
Perched on awkward stools.
A final scrum,
Packed, in passing farewell
To the man, player, teacher, parent. Lover
As tears hide times stumbling
Past and working years.
 
All will in silence stop.
Cease as the night comes down.
 
Yet we remember still, his patient smile
And quiet soul.
Our day’s labour rewarded with a
Single, silver coin.
We earn our fare.
Flesh melts, but
All must grin, into the face
Of eternity.
 
Behind us are the voices stilled
By songs no longer thrilled
We complete our task.
As time slips steadily past
Memories dispersing, as lingering scents
Of apple blossom.
 
Will be renewed Youth’s hope
Within those shinning eyes;
To rush and score again
Tries from a reborn metric line.
 
M J Oura. Nov 08