When I was five … The problem of being 5 is that no one, and least of all one’s reflective elder self, can read what might have been there. This is dark fantasy, therefore.

Posted on by stevendouglasblog

When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?

The problem of being 5 is that no one, and least of all one’s reflective elder self, can read what might have been there. This is dark fantasy, therefore.

When I was five, the moon was green cream-cheese.

Freud thought I loved my Mum. I thought the trees

Named weeping willows truly, deeply sad,

Actually wept. Till Dad said: “Nay, lad …

Don’t cry”, and paused. ___ “Trees, being wood, do not

Like your Mum grieve, make life in you rot;

Living, being thought worthless. Bold livers

These trees, with heads in giggling rivers.

Whilst she, sad forever, feels the sun’s loss

She thought might comfort her, as ripples toss

The flowing stream that evades her bended

Grasp. But rivers flow on, time’s not ended

Just because it runs away”. Still too young

To hear this, I wept more and found no fun

In thinking ahead. Maybe, I thought, but

That I doubt, that to move forward one foot

Before another was enough. I think

I feared to think lest in sad thought I sink

Like her. There is time yet to seek, then find

Someone to be, madness being left behind.

16.31 7th April 2024

5 thoughts on “When I was five … The problem of being 5 is that no one, and least of all one’s reflective elder self, can read what might have been there. This is dark fantasy, therefore.”

  1. Hello there . Your blog is very good. I am looking for any information on Ernest frost. if you have time to spare can you enlightenment me please on where such wisdom may be obtained. Thanking you

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    1. Hi Mark

      You are probably asking me this because you already know my blog in which I wildly admire Frosr’s work and propose a book on him, which I will never write. I know little more though my library is I think complete. If you find out more, I would love to know it too. A Frostvadmirer must be a friend 🧡. The blog you know is at:

      ‘He seemed to want to drive home the validity of his passion’. Ernest Frost’s (1953) ‘A Short Lease: A Novel’ London, John Lehmann: Lost Voices and the Queer Novel

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      1. oh goodness. after all the searching. It confirms my thoughts as no one knows.

        I am entranced by the covers of the hardback editions. The inside I don’t expect much from as it’s 50s literature and the constraints of what could be put in public mind.

        I am after the visitants as it seems to be a unicorn in the book 📙 world. I have followed #illustrateddust jacket @ instagram that is how I came upon EF.

        you have the most knowledge of him.

        that of course is limited as you have stated.

        oh well something may come up. I will have to save up for the expensive copies that survive.

        thanks for your speedy reply. Hope you do write the book on him. Best wishes

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      2. Hi Mark

        I do have a copy of The Visitants with a tatty dust jacket but I remember it as one of my favourites. Good luck in the search. I have a copy of his poems too that I rather like.

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