London By Night Poem by Paul Walker

London By Night



I'd been off coffee for two years,
Then I sank some Turkish in Soho.
It hit me like a depth-charge,
I couldn't sit still.

So I slipped anchor and drifted
the streets of New Troy,
swooning at the girls wailing
in their crooked Greek.

I docked at Trocadero
and hit the punch bag machine.
Smashed two hundred crosses into it;
straight knock-outs, both hands, each time.

A guy had washed up there drunk,
A vicious slash across his face,
red as a Turner sunset.

Like a dead ship in a storm he
Pitched and rolled, until
the bouncers threw him overboard
for bleeding on the slots.

Snuffing out my stern light,
I followed in his wake,
searching for rum and cigarettes.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Paul Walker 24 March 2010

Thanks so much for your comment Jerry. The guy playing the slots in York sounds just like the one I watched in London. Glad you enjoyed your trip around the watering holes of old Northumbria. Best wishes, Paul

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Jerry Buckley 23 March 2010

smashing poem.....I had the good fortune to visit Stockton / Middlesboro and all parts within access of the rail lines from there abouts this past December....this powm reminds me of a drunk playing the Elvis slots in a pub in old York....great job mate....keep it fresh

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Paul Walker

Paul Walker

Stockton-on-Tees
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