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Theodore Bird Mar 2015
Trafalgar in springtime;
     more people than you're used to.
Trafalgar in flickering sunlight;
     more warmth than you're used to.
Trafalgar in the afternoon;
     heavy clouds and weightless pigeon wings.
Dusty hands and feet;
     torn-open knees and holey socks.
Rumpled collar and hair;
     torn to pieces in a mess of watercoloured pages.
Trafalgar in springtime;
     forget the winter, leave it in the ground.
Theodore Bird Mar 2015
The breath of the hesitant sun
     is cool against the nape of your neck.
Crimson red café fronts flutter in the breeze.
Your feet are bruised on cobblestones,
     your soles worn down.
The gentle murmur of the foreign students,
     the rhythm of the Hindu philosophers,
the hot smell of cinnamon thick in your head.
Sarah Michelle Feb 2015
Rekindling of spirit
(folding in, billowing out)
with which we end the
day,
I dare you to
leave me.
The sun begs you to stay--
Give him the week off!
He needs a dozen
drinks!
Whiskey, gin, Pinot Grigio,
the whole lot!
He deserves a
feast!

And so the London Fog
stayed.
Coat and tea in hand,
thrown onto the mesh ground
despite,
tea arriving on cue--
Shallowed issues gone
askew,
Heart-screams louder
than the heart-worms
awash across the sidewalk

Day
dark like
Night

The
London Fog
Holds me tight
LJ Chaplin Feb 2015
The platform is cold,
Numbingly uncomfortable,
The 15:03 train is delayed,

Good.
I would rather wait in the bitter cold
Than return to reality.
It finally arrives,
Sighing as its engines
Relinquish all strength
It has to carry on.

I chose the longest journey to London,
Every stop,
Every pause in tine that I can temper
Linger in.
The fatigue may settle
And my hands may quiver,
But the memories of this week
Are irrevocable,
Laughter,
Friends,
Alcohol,
It was bliss to say the least,
But all good things must come to an end.

There is still the journey through the underground,
Maybe I could lose myself in a sea of commuters
And culture?
The urban rebels
And buzz of tourists who yearn for adventure?

The only thing that propels me
To step off the platform in the first place
Is the thought of ending up in his arms
By the end of the evening.
RH 78 Jan 2015
Bobbom bobbom.
Bobbom bobbom.
Blurred visions outside the window as the world rushes by.
bobbom bobbom
bobbom bobbom
Close to other passengers avoiding eye contact but not knowing why.
bobbom bobbom
bobbom bobbom
Time to plot my exit plan as the train slows to a stop.
bobbom bobbom
Schuuum...... Thdddd
Another London rush hour
Squeeze past giving apologetic looks to those I've trod on or knocked.
Rhianecdote Jan 2015
"You're not black."

I don't care,
I'm well aware of that.
The big guy in the sky
couldn't have made me
any whiter if
I was a polar bear
stranded on an
ever diminishing
ice pack.
Irish blood got me
paler than that
pale a water
Jack and Jill
were sposed
to bring back.

But I speak
the way I speak,
not to distance
myself from identity
I just don't see
it as a matter
purely for ethnicity
cause I was lucky to be
bought up in a city
where I didn't see
  those boundaries.

Apartheid tendencies
just hide
the truth you see.
That in many ways
I'm just like you
and you're just like me
and we kiss
and make up
*humanity

though
bourgeoisie mentality
would have
divide and conquer.

But I come from
the melting ***,
*culture clash

is London's calling
and its the
richest melody
if only you'd
listen properly.

Where I can walk around
the corner to my neighbours
and converse in Punjabi
with those I consider
my extended family.
Where Mrs Henry
who lived in flat A
insisted I never
called her by her first name,
hand me and my brother
an ice pole and
send us on our way,
the Caribbean way.

No need for tolerance
when you learnt respect
for difference at an early age.
And not just respect
Appreciation
Celebration of all
these cultures
that influence me,
give me insight
so I can see
in kaleidoscope colours.

Sisters and brothers
that don't share
the same skin tone
but all call the
same place home.
And I hope
social solidarity
will one day
be found.
Like when we
were kids
in my school
playground
Because when
you look around
and I mean
really look around
you see we all
stand upon
common ground

And I don't believe
that the view
from my window
is idealistic.
And to say
"it's not that simplistic"
Is enough to justify
it being unrealistic.
Tear down Cynical City
In love I say
and in the ruins
build the foundation
Of SimpliCity Today

So I'll keep
putting the word "man"
inexplicably
at the
end of sentences
like I've done
since year 3,
embrace that
slang terminology
cause it's what I do man,
it's who I am man,
I'm *hu-man.
Started off a bit jokey and somehow morphed into a social commentary... hey ** that's how it goes :P
Phoebe Jan 2015
My fingertips will never let me forget the scent of stale cigarettes.

I was a fool in London. All the friends I made had better accents than me.
I dreamed of Bulgaria and Brazil.

I walked through mud. I waited for French tides.
I trudged in heavy water waders.

My hands built a house with stones older than the country on my passport.
The etching of cement on my boots still reminds me what we carried there.

We drove along tired volcanoes and craggy cliffs in the dark.
I never learned how to drive manual.

We flew further south. I dried out in the sun.

The glands of Spanish streets pulsated
citrus mist into the air, my lungs.
I never did remember the difference between limon and lime.

We stayed in a haunted castel but missed Halloween.
The upper peninsula, where Napoleon dreamed of a better dinner.
We moved to Shangri-La. Even in Eden, people still snore.
But there were cakes laced with flowers. And I was over the moon.

Then, a dreamscape. The closest to the Arctic I’ve ever been.

We ate deer for dinner. I baked Danish pies. I slept supine in a smoke-filled yurt. It was all peace. It was all over.
I wrote this poem shortly after I returned to USA after backpacking and working in Europe for three and a half months. I lived in a hostel in London where I made many friends from all over the world. I built a house in Bordeaux. I lived near the beaches of Normandy. I worked in a castle, or "le castel." I had many siestas in Spain. I got ****** in Amsterdam. I was a pastry chef in Denmark.
RH 78 Jan 2015
Holland park to Queensway
Safe as houses
North Acton to White City
Stay on the train
Finchley Road to Wembley Park
"All change please"
"This train terminates here"
West Ham to Star Lane
6 minutes to walk 6 minutes to wait.
Elephant & Castle to Lambeth North
IWM you know what I mean!
East to West North to South
Oyster at the ready!
LNDN
O I love it!
EM Jan 2015
The steel grey skies of the humdrum city
Hang over the cracked and dusty sidewalks,
The paint crackling and peeling off of
The once bright houses.
Lonely wanderers stroll silently down
The aged muddy path in old well worn shoes,
Miserable thoughts on their minds
But no expressions on their faces,
The sun dare not penetrate through the misty clouds,
And the sky is tinted a dark and murky grey.

-E.M.
kelia Jan 2015
i am the girls you haven’t kissed
the patch of skin below your wrist
i am the sky dark before dawn
your hair before you cut it, blonde and long
i am your neighbors window, a grocery bag
i am the best and the worst thing you’ve never had

you’ll dream of me as soon as i leave
i’ll pretend i don’t know that you watched me sleep
whispered my name, it was almost noon
wiped my eyes and swallowed the moon
thought about you on the train ride home
i’m not allowed to love you, i’ll leave you alone
(falling for you)
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