One For The Pot: Poems by Neil Stewart McLeod

 

Being raised in Kenya in the 1950's, when it was still a British colony allows for an unusual and interesting upbringing. The author’s family lived up country in places where there was no electricity or refrigeration. In the early days his father used to go out to the plains to shoot a buck for the pot. There in lies the source for the name of this collection of highly original poems.
The era saw the decline of colonial control at the zenith of its influence and the poems give a unique perspective on life in the country at that time. Once you spread your wings in Africa there was no going back to the soft life. Dr. Neil McLeod, has deftly captured this unique, lost civilization, by sharing his unbounded childhood curiosity and joy, as only an accomplished bard might. The universal emotions he captures in his poetry, course, like swift clear trout streams off Mount Kenya’s flanks.

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One For The Pot

You may never have stood and looked down the sight

At the Tommy buck out in the breeze

With the barrel on the side of the truck

As your father says, “Gently now, squeeze.”

You may never have felt the kick of the butt,

Then heard the report with a crack,

Or seen the buck just scatter away,

Leaping this way and that.

You may never have smelt the smell of the air

After a fire on the plain,

When fresh grass shoots are pushing through

With mushrooms, after the rain.

You may never have heard the “kru kroo” of a dove

When at dusk to its mate it is calling,

As shadows are lengthening out to the east

And the African night is falling.

You may never have felt the pump of your heart 

As you slam the truck cab door

Then lurch on the seat as you cross the plain

To the prey when you’re only four.

You may never have ridden with game in the back

As rain clouds blacken the sky,

Or heard the clank of the tail-gate chains,

And never again shall I!