Replying to a comment on:

Piccadilly to Baker Street (Free verse) by Caducus

Rushing through a pale pulp of expressions I hear the droning of Piccadilly shadows Followed by a twisting light and tepid gust Diesel dusted rats squander beneath aluminium sleepers As I am lifted by thin lipped deadline obsessive’s And a nervous American sweating in a Union Jack Who rounds and ripples the rectangular flag. From pages Larkin I pondered On the bleakness of summer and people Who spend there morns and eves here Gripping a yard of pole in there hundreds To never exchange an amiable glance And to apologize profusely if so. I spot a ‘Times’ reader Trying to ogle page three of a tabloid A proper English gentlemen On the outside immaculate Yet inside destroyed, I ponder pages Larkin As I arrive at Baker street Where cockneys become caricatures And tourists become flashlights Thinking to myself Those clever black rats.

Stephen Robins 4-Jun-04/5:50 AM
That is the knock out come back I have been waiting for someone on www.poemranker.com to deliver for 15 months. It shall become my shibboleth, I only hope I can carry it off with the delicate aplomb which is natuarally ascribed to such a deft handling of the sacred art of insult.




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001