Poetry Blogs (wakefield beck)
The Beast Beneath The Beck
The beck at Westgate End is full of weeds,
its water is a muddy shade of brown,
confused ducks die within anaemic weeds
as sunken shopping trolleys pull them down.
Sometimes you hear a cold slithering splash,
as though some ancient creature has slid in
to feast upon the centuries of trash.
Who knows what evils are contained within?
Sunday 20th May 2018 12:49 pm