The Blues Of Ghetto Poem by Vera Dike

June 2019
Milton Keynes, Fishermead


Tone after tone emerged
from the battered saxophone
Faint with heat, the blues
lazily flew from the wall to the wall
The swings at the playground sighed
in a grievous interval

The Jinns held captive the boozers
in the empty bottles-
The letters of the castaways
sinking in the abysmal blue
Under the black fingers
another tone oozed

The bricks blushed
as the man swung his waist
The shop's windows sharply reflected
what the blues already knew
Before the triumphant rhythm
have their eyes been laid low

The thistles of poverty grew
next to the school fences
Any resemblance with real life
is pure coincidence?