Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Constables hay wain crossed the Stour, wooden wheels creaking, countryside colours clouded, trees shrouded Flatford Mill. Lowry's people were going to work, guarded by furious chimneys, darkness conductors, limbs aching. Beneath the plumes short lives streamed, inhabiting a rent collector's dreams. Thin models for humanity suffered Salford's acid rain from satanic wage slave mills.
0
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Salford on Stour
Constables hay wain crossed the Stour, wooden wheels creaking, countryside colours clouded, trees shrouded Flatford Mill. Lowry's people were going to work, guarded by furious chimneys, darkness conductors, limbs aching. Beneath the plumes short lives streamed, inhabiting a rent collector's dreams. Thin models for humanity suffered Salford's acid rain from satanic wage slave mills.
Written by
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem