River Poems |
The old girl at the heart of the city.Today's muse is not so much dragon flies -although one has danced for us But the unsteady clobber of toddlers on decking The hum of jazz and the multicoloured sparkles of humanity seeking beauty, space and sky Here in the sprawl are regimented trees guarding the way To the old girl at the heart of the city Even the anarchists have a voice here, in the wild clumps of tight fisted umbellifera the dive bombing pigeons and restlessness of kids. Marie-Antoinette might have felt at home here among the lavender waves the green promenades the box hedges and reflective hulls of the Thames barrier Here past, present and future meet in the race for the golden olympiad and we rekindle our love with secret passwords mystical journeys and the joy of guerilla poetry Lucyann Ashdown 3/9/10
London and MeIf it had always been straight lines I would have died If it was always predictable and solutions and the right way of doing things and lines always the same length I would have died. They tried to make it that way But the river never flowed that way It bent and twisted like a man's mind And we drew our life from it London oozed from it and grew sucking in to it a world's empire. If all the streets were straight and all the avenues wide I would have died But I found a place to twist and ooze and draw my life from it. James Ashdown 3/9/10
|