Jul 2017
'Are you pleasing those Lions?'
She thinks to herself under Nelson's Column.
'I am no hero of the Nile, nor of Trafalgar. I am an empty vessel.'
City of Angels, yet full of devils. Will she find the exit from Oblivion, in those molten, vermillion revels?
'And will you climb that stairway to heaven? Is it true that what glitters is gold?'
That golden dust, which lies on her beside table, sedative for her sorrows.
'Oh he was a foul coxcomb. England expects every heart will follow its duty!'
She is followed, by those feral eyes;
Those on the underground, those in the streets
And those who she will wish
her eyes will never meet.
She thinks to herself under Nelson's Column.
'I am no hero of the Nile, nor of Trafalgar. I am an empty vessel.'
City of Angels, yet full of devils. Will she find the exit from Oblivion, in those molten, vermillion revels?
'And will you climb that stairway to heaven? Is it true that what glitters is gold?'
That golden dust, which lies on her beside table, sedative for her sorrows.
'Oh he was a foul coxcomb. England expects every heart will follow its duty!'
She is followed, by those feral eyes;
Those on the underground, those in the streets
And those who she will wish
her eyes will never meet.
This short poem was partially inspired by one of my favourite songs from The Doors called 'Hyacinth House' whereby Jim Morrison expresses loneliness and the nature of being judged by others based on careers, personalities and relationships. I combined this with the strong presence of the lions in Trafalgar Square in London, which have a intimidating appearance and represent the strength of the British Empire. These eyes of judgement seem to pierce through the speaker in this poem who is being criticised by the personified statues for being unworthy of recognition.
