Stern men line a path, to
Doors with plaques stating former occupants:
Chopin, Churchill, Napoleon III.
Overhead flags hang early evening shadows
From ornate golden arms
Across the first of nine or ten marble steps.
And up them walk folk with schmoozing faces
From cars with private drivers
And windows tinted black.
White limestone porticos are
Split by solid black adorned with gold,
And expensive gowns in violent colour.
And I notice the eyes
Fixed on my passing
As I slip into familiar grey.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
Stern men line a path, to
Doors with plaques stating former occupants:
Chopin, Churchill, Napoleon III.
Overhead flags hang early evening shadows
From ornate golden arms
Across the first of nine or ten marble steps.
And up them walk folk with schmoozing faces
From cars with private drivers
And windows tinted black.
White limestone porticos are
Split by solid black adorned with gold,
And expensive gowns in violent colour.
And I notice the eyes
Fixed on my passing
As I slip into familiar grey.
St James' Place / King's Street, London, July 2018
As part of 'View from...', a collection of observational poetic experiments, whereby I allow myself five minutes to finish a poem regarding my surroundings at that time.
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