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Daily Archives: July 8, 2013

Over London


Today, two old poems from the archive…

Airliners over London

Winter sunset.

And to the west the dying sun
Burns the fringes of the clouds,
Burns the ragged sky red.

A red stained river flows
Past offices and flats,
And on past sterile, static,
Immutable, graying concrete,
On and on past the shops,
Warehouses, hospitals,
Bright service stations.
I do not know how many
Terraced houses.

The houses huddle close,
Side by side, back to back,
Their order broken only
By worn green squares, dumps
For crisp packets, paper bags,
Newspapers (dirty and torn),
Used needles, take-away food cartons.
I do not know how many
Used condoms.

Roads order the houses,
And offer a place to breathe.
They are out there,
Breathing now, the
Mods and Teds, ravers,
Old punks and skins,
Old hippies, older beats,
Grungy kids, travellers,
Mothers pushing push-chairs,
Pulling shopping trolleys,
Old men reminiscing,
Tired workers…

View original post 244 more words

The Cry of a Woman (by Tola Adegbite)

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