Skyscrapers and crowded junctions,
A metropolis caught in fading daylight.
A dying sun in the distance.
A line of traffic leading out of the city.
Sweat and pollution as commuters hurry.
The rumble of an underground train.
Another day, another evening.
Sunset over the city.
Flying across London at night
By jfarrell
Look up, and use the stars, the constellations to navigate;
Looking down on London, at night, is the same.
The lights, of landmarks, vehicles….
When I first flew with my dragon, I was so lost.
But, look down…
The perfect ring of red light,
With a bulge of multicoloured madness below it…
That’s the London Eye (big wheel) and the Southbank area.
The elusive, silvery eel that borders that is the Thames;
Look left, look right, follow the silvery trails and the boats…
You’ll find bridges…
And once you’ve identified one bridge…
You know where you are, flying over London at night.
But I would not recommend flying a dragon over London;
I know they’re cars, boats and trains…
But Karla thinks they’re little bugs
All with with fantastic flavours….
We crashed, that first time, opposite Waterloo Station…
Taxi cab had been converted into a fresh coffee bar…
Covered in coffee beans and grounds…
Karla stood up and gave a flaming belch….
Even the cab owner agreed, coffee never tasted so good,
Roasted at about a billion degrees…
By a 15 foot chocolate bar…
I really should ask Karla to put some clothes on…
Nevers
By jfarrell
25th floor of a building in central London, with big windows;
I’d never seen London at night, all lights;
Was beautiful; first time I actually appreciated what London could be;
Until last night, I’d never been that high up and seen London.
I’d never been to Wembley, never been to Lord’s Cricket Ground;
Never got a roomful of important people drunk on entry;
“Champagne, sir or madam?”
I’d never served coffee to a room of professors.
Until my present employer, Berkeley Scott (BIG thank you, amazing);
I’d never experienced a road, a street…
The walk there takes five minutes..
After work, that same walk takes an hour or more.
Before BKS (Berkeley Scott)….
I’d never walked anywhere,
As part of a sea, an arrow, a swarm of people;
40, 000 people, all headed for the same tube station.
I’m nearly 50, these last 6 months seen a lot of nevers happening;
Nearly 50; never had family or kids or meaningful relationship;
BKS helping me destroy a lot of nevers;
Maybe, even this late in the race, some nevers can still be changed.
I don’t want my future (what’s left),
Just OK, managing;
I’d like my future to be good, worth the effort;
Maybe another never can be destroyed.
All along the river are landing stations and stairs,
surviving conspicuously since Chaucer's tales.
Ode to the joy of bear-baiting and drunken affairs.
Ode to the joy of affairs.
All along the Fleet,
one might meet a young man fleeing from charges of parricide.
All along the Fleet,
one might meet a young girl fleeing from a den of men.
An evening at The Rose might admit impediments.
An evening at The Rose might last until the edge of doom.
If Visscher's view had outlasted time,
these last 400 years could serve as a paradigm.
You want to go to where?
Victoria rail station
Lydia said
her mother
as she dried the plate
a cigarette hanging
from her lower lip
asked
who with?
Benny the boy upstairs
in the flats
over there
Lydia said
her mother wiped
another plate
why there?
and why with him?
Lydia played
with her fingers
nervously
trains
steam trains
she said
we like to see them
and I like Benny
he's funny
her mother
stared at her
don't seem funny to me
but his mother's
a good sort
so he can't be
too bad I suppose
Lydia looked
at her mother's
red wet hands
how are you
getting there?
bus I guess
Lydia said
and I suppose
you want money
for the fare?
Lydia stared
Benny said
he'd pay
did he now
her mother said
think I can't
afford the fare?
she put the plates
in a cupboard
and stared
at her daughter
thin
weedy looking
she got her black purse
and took out
some coins
don't make a habit
of going out to
faraway places
her mother said
she put the coins
into her daughter's
thin white hands
and walked off
to tidy
the sitting room
Lydia looked
at the coins
in the palm
of her hand
she pocketed them
in her fading red dress
and opened
the front door
to see
if Benny was coming
the baker
was going by
on his horse drawn cart
the horse looked tired
and trotted slow
then she saw Benny
coming across
the Square towards her
riding his
imaginary horse
with his 6 shooter gun
and holster
of course.
Nadav had rough skin
when he touched
it was like sandpaper
rubbing flesh
girls have a habit
of boring me
to tears
he said
I looked
at Miss Ashdown's
broad behind
as she walked down
the aisle between desks
in class
her skirt swayed
like old ship's sails
all they talk of
is dolls and prams
and doll's clothes
and about whom
they'll marry
one day
I wondered
if Miss Ashdown's hips
wore away the wood
at the side
of the desks
as she walked
between them
I prefer boy's talk
of guns and battles
and wars and such
he said
I watched
as Miss Ashdown
turned and faced
the front of the class
her big bust
like battleship guns
do you like girl's talk?
Nadav asked
I like their gentleness
and softness
and smell of flowers
I said
but talk?
he said
what of that?
the knack
I said
is to listen
only to the last
few words of speech
to get the drift
of talk
Miss Ashdown
glared at Nadav
and threw
skill fully
chunks of chalk.
Why do you wear
your guns back to front
in the holsters?
Helen asked me
as we walked
the bomb site
by Meadow Row
I saw this cowboy
in a film
at the cinema
have his like this
and you cross
your hands over
and get your guns
isn't it slower
that way?
she asked
no it's speed that matters
not how
you wear your guns
I said
I showed her
how quick I was
and she stood bemused
clutching her doll
Battered Betty
tightly to her chest
haven't you got
caps in your guns
to make them
sound real?
she asked
no I ran out
and anyway
I can make
the sound myself
by going
BANG BANG
she jumped away
holding Battered Betty
to her chest
you could have told me
you were going
to make that loud
banging noise
Betty got frightened
I looked at her
tightly woven plaits
of hair
and thick lens glasses
and her small hands
holding the doll
sorry Betty
I said
patting the doll's head
I put the guns away
and we walked
to the New Kent Road
and along
under the railway bridge
and by the Trocadero cinema
gazing at the billboards
and small pictures
of films
being shown
you can come
with me here
on Saturday
I said
they've got
a good cowboy film
showing
haven't any money
for the cinema
Mum said
she can't afford it
Helen said
my old man'll
cough up some money
if I ask
I said
she looked at me
Mum'll let me go
if you ask her
Helen said
ok let's go
ask her now
I said
so we walked
to Helen's house
and I told her
about how I practised
drawing my guns
everyday
she looked at Betty
but whether
she was listening
to me
or not
I couldn't say.
Ingrid's words
were muffled
when she spoke to me
by Dunn's hat shop
where we said
we'd meet
the day before
her thick lip
(where he father
had backhanded her)
moved slowly
does you dad
wear hats?
she asked
looking in
the shop window
no
I said
never seen him
ever wear a hat
not even to cover
his balding head
she looked
at the passing traffic
what happened to you?
I asked
pointing to her lip
my dad didn't like
the way I brushed
my hair
he said it was
too tartish
whatever that means
she said
tapping her
recently brushed hair
I tried to get out
of his way
but he caught me
with a backhand
I’m going
to the cinema
this afternoon
I said
there's a cowboy film on
and I want to see
how the good guy
draws out his gun
he does it
by crossing over
his hands
could I come?
she asked
Mum might give me
9d for a ticket
as long as Dad
doesn't know
she added
sure
I said
come to my flat
after lunch
we walked down
the subway
to get
to St George's Road
to walk along
to Bedlam Park
to try out
the swings there
and buy an ice cream
outside the swimming pool
(money I'd been given
by my old man
for polishing
his brown brogues)
I studied her
as we walked along
she talking
of her old man's temper
and how he punched
her mother
for letting
his dinner get cold
I noticed her
faded grey dress
the flowers red
against watery green stems
grey-white
ankle socks
black scuffed shoes
her thin hands
gesturing as she talked
and the slight smell
of dampness
as I neared her
the bruise
under her left eye
fading
like the morning sun
where her old man
had thumped her
for something
she hadn't done.
From her bedroom window
Lydia could see
the grass and pigeons
and some boy
with a bow and arrow
she could hear
her mother shouting
at her father
her sister
still asleep
in the big bed behind
the tattooed arm
hanging from the bed
her mouth open
Lydia saw the boy turn
it was Benedict
his quiff of hair
an arrow in his bow
pointing downwards
he was mouthing words
and making gestures
with his free hand
she opened the window
letting in
the morning air
are you coming out?
Benedict asked
Lydia's sister
stirred in the bed
where are you going?
Lydia asked
thought I’d go
to one of the big
train stations
see the steam engines
he said
she looked back
at her sister
the blonde hair
over her face
a breast hanging
out of her nightie
which one?
she asked
he fired an arrow
at a pigeon
but it flew away
Victoria?
he said
I’ve no money
she said
he went
to pick up the arrow
stuck in the grass
he wiped mud
off the end
when are you going?
she asked
after lunch
he said
walking up
to her ground floor
window and peering in
at Lydia's sister
can you call for me?
she asked
sure
he said
will your mother
be ok about it?
last time
she almost
bit my head off
Lydia looked out
at the grass
and dandelions
growing
she'll be all right
she said
uncertain but trying
to convince him
ok
he said
I’ll call for you
he walked off
across the grass
holding his bow
and arrow
shut the blooming window
her sister said
turning over in bed
Lydia pulled down
the window
and watched
as Benedict
climbed the green
metal fence
and disappeared
from view
Lydia picked up
her sister's
dirty washing
for something
(in the meantime)
to do.