0013 Aftermath: London, July 7,2005 Poem by Michael Shepherd
0013 Aftermath: London, July 7,2005
Two days after,
when they'd cleared away the mangled
meaningless twist of metal,
familiar red paint smeared with oily black,
its intended destination still proclaimed,
I passed the place on business
and walked more slowly
avoiding the eyes of others
in case they imagined in my eyes
or I in theirs,
some falsity, some failure of the mind,
some lack of the appropriate emotion,
whatever that might be -
almost a guilt acquired
in some complicity
In the gutter, a glove, brown, damp, like a hand,
lying on its back, its fingers slightly curled
as if in mute request
for a reason
but to whom, now, to return it?
Absolutely superb Michael. Engages the mind and the heart. I'd be most interested to find out how this piece developed from conception to execution.
Agreed with both the Ds (unusually) . This is a fantastic read - better on the fourth time, I have found. You're getting quite Eliot-ish here... always a compliment. You get us to think and reflect. And there's a hard task, indeed! t x
Hi Michael, This was eerie, Great poem. You write with great imagery and emotions. Wow, so descriptive. Excellent poem. Take care.
Wow what a moment! well put across, a picture of the mind excellent very well written. Seamus
After the philosophizing which sets the mood you bring it home poignantly with the short painting of the glove and mangled objects. Reporters usually do it the other way round to grab the reader, but your way is more painful.
Agreed with those below me, this is a fine poem, I think the stlye of the poem is nessecary for the theme, It is direct and gentle, and does re create that eerie feeling when returning or walking past a place where something terrible and traumatic has happened. I was in Russel square that day and I was there yesterday, you captured my mood and many others. Great work Michael. All the best. Vincent Turner
Michael This work of yours is an equisite exploration of heart, mind and soul...... Thankyou. Love, and may peace be with you and each of us critters, D.
Michael, I think we all look away because we bear that burden of guilt, thinking that there surely must be something we can do to change our world and the way it is. And the mute testimony of that glove, demanding 'Why? ' makes my heart break. Well said, dearest Michael, well said!
Yes Michael, it gives an eerie feeling visiting the site of such terror. It almost makes us embarrassed to be alive. I know in our town years ago there was a particularly grizzly murder of a young revellers walking home. Every woman in that town including myself, was in fear of practically every man on the streets for weeks if not months afterwards. You just never think it will happen in your town. Well it did in mine and also our London Town. I just pray it never happens again. A great poem full of insight and emotion. The glove was such a haunting image to end on. Smiling half mast today, Tai
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 11:44:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This is one of the greatest pieces that I have seen from you, it connects, asks a question from deep inside, and the touch you added about the glove, well, just genious Love duncan X