I ran a poetry workshop this week in Kingkerswell Library and I'd like to thank the people who attended and made it such an enjoyable morning. Thank you. This poem was begun in that workshop.
THE NEAR HORIZONS OF A SMALL TOWN
By Widnes Bus Garage
a mock Tudor pub
we never went in the bar
too full of bus drivers and mechanics
talking tickets, fare stages
bemoaning bus stop politics
But the snug had a jukebox
famous amongst our crowd
you stocked it with imports
to maximise income
you’d figured out the angles
rode the 70s for what they were worth
I imagine you today
balder
older
slightly embittered
at how it all turned out
it’s all rubble now
so much flat waste land
As you can see it still has many miles to go before it is able to stand on its own two feet and go out into the world. What I have not been able to do, so far, is to complete the narrative of the individual I am thinking of. The specific manner in which their life changed.
This next poem is a redrafting. Actually I have removed a line which I think makes the poem read better. You can read the last version here.
INTERSECTION
the sun is in my eyes
but the rain falls
it’s one of those days
showers
and a winter angled sun that blinds
so the wedding party
appear to materialise
out of the glare
in small groups
impossible heels that
click click click towards you
dressed to the nines
coats held over hairdos
I should not be surprised
the bells have made announcements
and here on the cracked pavement
our lives intersect
and just like that diverge again
Once again thanks to the Secret Poets for their invaluable insights.
Sachal Vasandani has a new single out.
Until next time.
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