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Aromas of Siberian sealskin left him reminiscing He consulted his map to nowhere, to see If he could find where he wasn’t going The page presented itself as a falsehood of Oxford And further described English suburban apartheid In Maidenhead Complete with the clangs of articulated lorries Birds no longer took centre stage, letting waves Embellish their paradise Boundaries were fluid, he just could not find them In his pantheon, he kept his Medieval Mappa Mundi Did all his exercise, trying to define his outline Now you see him, now you don’t How many times does he have to tell you?
7 thoughts on “Don’t You Just Love Maps”
Thank you for the Mappa Mundi education. Totally new to me.
I only found out about them, Jeff, a few years ago at an exhibition about maps at the Bodleian Library. Times when the world was flat seemed much simpler.
I enjoyed this, especially the line, “And further described English suburban apartheid in Maidenhead.”
Thanks, Priscilla. It was one of those lines that I still don’t know where it appeared from. Glad you enjoyed the poem.
Also, I didn’t know what Mappa Mundi was. I had to look it up. Interesting!
“He consulted his map to nowhere, to see
If he could find where he wasn’t going”
Deep lines that reflect a feeling of being utterly stuck. A wonderful take on maps. 🙂
Thank you, Terveen. There seems to be a strange relationship between men and their maps. I’ve been fixated on them since childhood. Still don’t know how to read one properly though. 😂