poemranker ::London Calling by Bluemonkey

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Free verse № 128331

London Calling

by Bluemonkey

Member since 2004 · Posted 7 Jul 2005 · 4 comments

Waste and want walk hand in hand through the dirty streets of London. This daily bread is growning stale; moldy and left to decompose. Cradles turned to coffins in a twisted game of evolution. The sickening smell of cinnamon rising from the baker's grave. The first to aid, the last to fall; saddened in summer's peak. These bearded attempts to fan the flame of a sour fire indeed.

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mean 5.75 weighted 5.09 rank 6354 views 243 View voting details →

4 votes so far. Yours would make 5.4 votes so far

4 comments

[7] Bankrupt_Word_Clerk 7-Jul-05/2:31 PM Reply
ok
[7] Dovina 7-Jul-05/2:40 PM Reply
Good except for "twisted game of evolution."
[n/a] -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. › Dovina 29-Jul-05/2:20 AM Reply
Even the finest Persian carpets must have at least one blemmish, lest they affect a perfection that touches the buttocks of God. And so it is with poetry, the obvious exception being 'The Spaz' by ?-Dave_Mysterious-?
[7] zodiac 10-Jul-05/10:51 PM Reply
"bearded attempts" is great.