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Born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, now living in Cheshire, England. I started to write poetry some years ago, as a hobby. I have enjoyed that new venture very much. My preferences are for long and micro-form poetry styles. A first book of poetry ~ Reason Without Rhyme, was published in December 2013. A second book ~ Fifty Seven Pebbles, was published in September 2015...I am presently compiling the content for my third book. Thank you for visiting my Blog... COPYRIGHT: The entire copyright and content of this Blog belongs to the author Eileen T O'Neill. Nothing should be copied, reproduced or hosted as per RSS feed by any other party. {This particularly applies to the USA company Feedspot.com}

Thursday, 17 October 2024

Letters...

 Dear Teenage Eileen,
 
I remember how much you loved writing letters back in those times.
You had a very keen fascination with stationery departments.
Your favourite purchase was a Basildon Bond writing pad of forty sheets
Champagne colour, watermarked vellum quality, with matching envelopes
The type of pen used to write letters was an equally important choice.
For special recipients, a blue ink filled fountain pen was always selected
I am sure you remember how many times you rewrote words until exactly right
Blotting paper used to capture the imprints and any messy mistakes
Writing to pen pals was an enthusiastic hobby back in those days
Finding interesting topics to share from Belfast across oceans of miles
Life then was uninteresting with The Troubles of those days dominating living
Your faraway friend Pam wrote to you occasionally from Beloit Wisconsin  
Her letters arrived in assorted colours of envelope and typed in a grey print
You exchanged news from respective lives, though her life was more interesting
She had at least three boyfriends and you barely had any friends, outside of school
The civil unrest in Belfast really precluded any socialising, such as Pam experienced
Somehow, you eventually lost contact with each other. Perhaps living just got in the way
I have recently found one of Pam’s letters sent to you from all those decades ago.
Dated April 1972. That particular year was one of the most violent in Northern Ireland.
I look back at the me, of that time when pen and paper were my tools of escapism
Long before social media and computers became as regular as day and night
I have stacks of unused writing pads and envelopes. The end of an era

Best Wishes,
The Retired Eileen
 
17/10/2024

7 comments:

  1. Wow, you and I shared a similar interest in writing to penpals! I do remember writing some letters by hand, but I typed many of them as I could get more words on the page. Interesting that you wrote letters sometimes to escape the troubles. I wrote to get to know what it was like living in another part of the world. Interesting about your pen pal in Beloit, which is really not far from where I live. (Small world). If you want to send me an email giving me her name, I could try to find more current info. Wouldn't it be fun to write to her again? I enjoyed your letter poem, Eileen!

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    1. Mary,
      A small world indeed.
      Part of me is curious to know what became of Pam, yet another part considers her a part of life's moving onward journey!

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  2. I remember ink and blotters. Now "stationery" stores have aisles full of tech gadgets and everyone walks around with their face in a screen. Your letter took me back, my friend.

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  3. ". . . that time when pen and paper were my tools of escapism . . ." And art, too, with careful choice of paper and pens! These are such good memories--aside from the Troubles, that is!

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  4. I still remember the days of "blue ink filled fountain pen", "Blotting paper used to capture the imprints and any messy mistakes,". Though I did not have any pen pal but I so longed to have one. Your mention of the year 1972 also triggered a stream of memories as in that year we first went abroad; to Zambia, with my parents. So to have a glimpse of another world was somehow satisfied. Such a beautiful poem Eileen.

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  5. You take us there, Eileen, to the room of a young girl caught in a whirlpool of violence around her, finding something to hang on to through letters to a pen pal in Wisconsin, far from "The Troubles." A turbulence survived, now looked back on through a re-discovered letter. Beautifully told.

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I appreciate visits to this Blog and any comments left. I shall always endeavour to reciprocate. Thank you, Eileen