THE UNACKNOWLEDGED

Strangely the "thousands of pounds", by which my MP claims her constituents are better off under the draconian austerity of the Conservative government, has to arrive at my house...

Keen readers will know of my love for Catalunya and the Iberian Peninsula in general. Here are some other Barcelona inspired poems. 
Today's poem [title-less yet again] mentions The Cafe Zurich, a well known meeting spot and place to watch the world go by.

I'm in the Café Zurich, under the famous clock,

through the windows Barcelona is a festival of brollies

beneath in the February sleet.

The constant rush hour of Plaça de Catalunya

is hardly dented by the fleeting winter weather.

In liminal spaces, the unacknowledged

sell cheap umbrellas to people racing time.

When I was last here in June

the trade was in fake handbags and sunglasses,

laid on a cloth that could be bundled up

if the Guarda Civil walked by.

Each season has its own crop.

You arrive, we kiss, and step outside,

just two stories among many.

As I am writing about Catalunya I have to comment on the high handed manner in which Madrid has dealt with the Catalans. I fear that if Catalunya gained independence they would be in the same limbo as the UK is over Brexit. But come on Madrid! You can't just lock up the whole of the elected government!

Here is Ana Brun from her new LP of covers.

Until next time.