karen sinclair (brighton)
You sit as a grey silent rushing stream
Of concrete, metal, with grey marbled sky
Leaning undefinable towards the Payne's charcoal
Created by man's coarse fingers and mind
Were you ever Mother nature's emerald green belt?
Which swooned around Londinium
As black ravens scour your barren ribs
To pluck the last few morsels of flesh
As thread bare conifers nearly scratch the sky
Whilst containers muted litter the landscape
And giant neutral windmills turn as propellers on a jet
Which never reach
But the eye
As your concrete snakes
Tunnels and fly-over
Roundabouts here and there
Lit by splashes of Red
As emergency blue
Screams in my rear view
Just follow the
White line that pushes past this place
Of just passing Dartford
Just on the outskirts of London
Poet Other Poems
- 70s Kids
- A Mothers Decline.....
- A Pagans Kiss.... Adult Nature
- A Sketchy Process.....Freeing up the spi...
- A Very Angry Fisherman
- A Word.........Moored
- Abortion...... sensitive nature....Butch...
- Absynth Sea.... Warning Not Religious
- Alien Abduction
- Autumns Tease....
- B&Q. The DIY Store.... Toilet Humour.
- Back in the Daze....Chase
- Ballet Shoes and Old Oak Floors
- Bansky Living Artist
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.