Gaze with intent at the London skyline, sublime.
Hazed with the fervent aura of the denizens of my time.
Scurrying beneath the cascade of inummerable lights.
Hurrying to beat the rush hour and the encroachment of night.
Dusk is descending upon this menagerie of diversity.
Performing their daily rituals, withstanding monotony, adversity.
Cursory peek at the inhabitants they walk amongst in their trance.
Faceless suits, who if they cared to take more than a glance.
Would realise that this anonymous suit has a face.
The same one they skulk past each day, this very time, this very place.
Each gazing at the pavement beneath them as the capital passes them by.
Content and intent to get home to their lives.
If they stopped for a mere moment to notice the ecclecticity all around.
They would appreciate the cosmopolitanism this city abounds.
The array of lives, characters, stories a plenty.
But the passers by bear no significance, hollow shells, empty.
To all this I bear witness from my one bedroom home.
Through a picture sized window, in my kitchen alone.
I remain resigned to watching them from a distance, appalled.
For if I were to venture into their world I'd exchange pleasantries with them all.
Hi Louis. I just dropped by for my first visit and the first impression I get of your work is how I want to read it out loud. So I did! And I'm wondering if you ever take it to readings or open mikes? That was my New Year resolution for 2010 and it has totally moved my writing forward. Really like the lines in verse 9 and that picture sized window.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by Annie. Would love for you to read some more of my work and offer some critique. I'm now a follower of your blog, fancy returning the compliment? :-) Any advice on suggested reading? Magazines, websites etc. that advertise poetry readings.
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