Tag: London

Razored

Above Kite Hill, you searched for the right breeze.

I waited, my manjha ready to cut.

Below, an assembly clapped and cheered

As a million eyes were averted

By sordid headlines and Sunday lattes.

Geezer

He had the gift of the gab, spoke

Anthologies of pubs and poetry

Beware of his tales and promises

Sooner or later he will let you down

Follow you with an unsettling silence

Freeze you in your own Winter

London

The staggering genius of ordinary lives

Not a thorn between them

You run to catch up with the sun

But she is sinking as she swings

To and fro, on a piece of frayed rope

Until she is lost, in a relative way

You are older, older than wishing time away

Along with all her endearments, frittering

And wasting hours in an offhand style

Collapsed on a wooden bench

We took a second to search for nostalgia

Taking more than a fallen age to come

A name is a name, why tinker with it


Music Credit: Monolog RockstarsThe Bad Wake