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Battersea lay on its back

like an old dog in the sun,

its legs in the air.


A postwar indolence

hung loosely at the kerbs.

Rails gently simmered on their way to homes.

Factory chimneys were idle,

and on this Christmas day

for those still about, dawdling


there was a pint to be had at a corner pub.


An air of honesty led to no false hopes,

no promise of bijou glamour,

while the Thames was a faded Duchess


disgusted but keeping to herself.


Then wise men came, saying

Battersea on its back needed her fleas removed,

a brisk wash in the trough of money,

and all her sad and hopeful dogs put in a home.






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Thu 27th Dec 2018 15:56

Hi David. It's nice to have someone on your wavelength here. The whole atmosphere I've drawn from past memory, and you have dignified the effort with fine attention. It's just nice to let one's hair down and wallow a bit. Also it's a relief not to have to justify the work as often happens with controversial themes. That sounds hypocritical, but it all takes energy. Love wins every time, I used to have the T shirt. I hope things are looking up .

Thanks Hannah, always nice to hear back.

Many thanks for the likes: Tom, Jon, Anya and Suko.


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Hannah Collins

Wed 26th Dec 2018 14:19

I remember going to Battersea as a child,
This is a wonderfully atmospheric poem.


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Tue 25th Dec 2018 12:10

Hi folks. Just attached a photo taken in Battersea Park Road on Christmas day 1965 !

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Wolfgar Miere

Tue 25th Dec 2018 08:10

Blimey Ray,

this will have to be a new favourite for a while. The love in these lines shines out. Anyone who loves that dirty City knows the feeling of disappointment at what parts of it seem to have become, her former majesty stripped bare (although that is probably just nostalgia speaking)

The image of The Station as a flea bitten dog its legs stuck up in the air shows the mind of a true artist at work, tilting at windmills perhaps, lol.

"The Thames a faded Duchess" adds to the picture of a fall from majesterial grace but still much loved by the loyal masses.

And that final verse, as if the bland money men can buy such a thing as dignity and respect. I think the London of old lingers beneath the monstrosity men have made of her and secretly see's herself as an outcast Queen, her people still love her and will see her return. I think though that unfortunately she may be buried forever.

I feel sad commenting on WoL on Christmas Day, you know my boy is in hospital (nothing too serious) so the joy has rather been stolen this year for the time being. We'll get him back later today hopefully and catch up on some Christmas Spirit. Of course there are those not so fortunate, we are the lucky ones.

Lots of love pal have a great one.


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