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MUNICIPAL PRIDE

On this bench dedicated to E.F.Hawksworth

by his wife Lucinda 1983

these youths have no respect.

 

The girl is on her haunches -

the boy like a raven shrouds her,

both shrunken by drugs.

 

The bench of bleached oak stands as testament -

to what who knows,

who now cares?

 

A small patch of cleared earth

awaits the gesture of spring bulbs,

pigeons gather

looking impossibly lost. 

◄ THE MEASURE OF A POET

CRIMINAL WAYS ►

Comments

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raypool

Wed 14th Feb 2018 19:56

Thanks David. The trouble is that often when I write, I am not stating my opinion necessarily, as I can usually see many sides to any held stance. This perhaps weakens the strength of the message, but i'm not here to make judgements, as you well know. They are simply for the readers to ponder on. Sometimes that means a poem will appeal to head not heart, but that's my burden. I'm glad you know me well, and perhaps my scope is rather wide, simply because of my curiosity. Think as a child is what I say and leave interpretations to adults. Condemnation and adulation are both both sides of a coin to me. I do find your comment heartening actually and quite down to earth!

It's very nice to get a like from you Laura, cheers.

Ray



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raypool

Tue 13th Feb 2018 21:33

Thank you for the like David. No dislike button can harm this site.

Certainly true Col. Yes, I suppose rather downbeat; also a testament I hope to a generation that held strong views and the need to perpetuate themselves in some form, with the bonus of serving the "community." Do we have them any more? Thanks mate.

Thanks for stopping by Hannah. All a bit sad. My age is too much for most people probably,, but there are always angles hidden beneath exteriors.

Ray x

<Deleted User> (18118)

Mon 12th Feb 2018 19:47

The images create a visual scene, a story.
We see these dedicated benches, I always stop to look.
Someone must have cared very much to do this.
One to remember.

Hannah

<Deleted User> (13762)

Mon 12th Feb 2018 08:36

the bench is a little like our poetry don't you think? Once it's out there in the community we have no control over it's use or interpretation. The poem seems to be a reflection on our good intentions and hopes - despite the reality. Col.

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