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

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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

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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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