A Concrete Pond

A Concrete Pond

 

A concrete pond.

A concrete city.

Harsh and pitiless

drowning in rage,

its skirling sirens

                     

skewering ears.

The foetid water’s

spurned by mallards -

no kids dibbing nets

through jagged flotsam.

 

Kate squeezed my hand

in consolation. 

I squeezed hers. ‘Once

this was a lake. There

used to be willows.’               

 

‘Did you fish here?’

‘Yeah, we caught minnows.

I sailed a yacht

that dad made for me -

two big kids pinched it.

 

Dad went crazy,

calling me ‘yellow.’

Getting it back,

cost me two black eyes -

then he smashed the boat.’

 

‘That sounds unfair.’

‘Life’s never been fair.’

‘So, what’s the point?’

I watched a lotus

breaching the surface,

 

its fronds uncurled

covering the pond.

I stepped aboard.

‘Magic is the point -

you coming or not?’

 

 

 

 

◄ Lost in a Durham Landscape 

Equinox at Frank's ►

Comments

poemagraphic

Thu 24th Jan 2019 17:09

I like again (no button for that)

looks like you topped yourself (In a good way ;)

Po

Rick

Thu 24th Jan 2019 11:29

Thanks, All, I've tarted it up a bit - as is my wont - but it's only superficially different 😃

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raypool

Wed 23rd Jan 2019 19:32

A nice mix of urban angst and genuine poignancy Rick. Lovely. Ray

poemagraphic

Wed 23rd Jan 2019 14:45

Wonderous words Rick

skimming across the screen like a flat stone on a calm pond

seeing each word plop on to the page.

Po

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Jason Bayliss

Wed 23rd Jan 2019 13:48

Yeah, really, really like this!🙂

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Wolfgar Miere

Wed 23rd Jan 2019 12:47

Bitter sweet, which is always good I think. If such a place existed wouldn't it be lovely.

Interestingly to me your words are the lotus fronds, which makes me suspect this is poetry.

(All other opinions being equal of course)

Nice one Rick,

David.

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