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Nadia Oct 7
Neighbourhood bash
In a flash
We dashed
We splashed
Garbage thrashed
and cached
We conquered trash
To earn our sash
See you at the rehash
Hugoose Feb 27
Glowing Windows embedded into mouldy brick walls
Ivy climbing the gutters of neighbourhood roofs
Skies becoming burnt out like charred blackened fields

Tall spiny trees project shadows onto the road below
Leaves curl up to receive some weakening light from above
A formation of sputtering cars cling to each turn they decide to make
Cloudy milky light bounces off faulty windows that exhale the aroma of somebodies impending supper

A heavy truck manoeuvres itself into the blistered bitumen horizon
Dry deflated branches make obscene gestures towards passers-by
Gardeners rummage through their bags as they near the end of their working day
Their faces filled with an expired enthusiasm for breathing

Parked hunks of metal pelted with dead itchy leaves
Windscreen wipers hold fragile twigs down against grotty neglected glass
Chain-link fences link disparate housing and the sleeping people within
Some dispirited unsatisfied psychos gaze up as they catch a moving bus

Smoky Incense billows down from some apartment balcony
The air becomes cold and sharply fills these ordinary streets
Engine sounds try to supress the divine quietness
They only merge into it

Now the stars are out and about
Bright specks waddling in an aerial pool of dark blue
You turn the key and walk through the front door
Hopefully you enjoy this, I'm kinda strange about sharing what I write and I get rather shy but yeah enjoy, I'll stop talking now
Peter B Jan 2017
My neighbourhood
hungry pigeons,
small supermarket,
Turkish kebab shop.

People with faces
of a lonely ghosts,
dull cars, loud airplanes
bugging their own noise.

Fake beggars, cafe
full of strangers' talk,
grey skies above me,
ex-paradise lost.

My neighbourhood,
weekend market's stalls,
park, always empty,
closed down gospell hall.
Luisa C Oct 2016
My new neighbour depression,
lives in a house rotting in the ground,
scarred wood torn away and roof tiles scattered,
with garden flowers withering away,
trees cracking at the slightest move of the wind.
Ever since he moved in a storm cloud
hangs low over the neighbourhood,
soaking my lawn and treading on my grass.
My neighbour depression
throws heavy stones to crack my windows,
leaves untidily scrawled messages of hatred in my letterbox,
leaving a trail of black paint up to his backgate.
My neighbour depression
takes advantage of my protection of thin walls,
and each day attempts to crash through them like a wrecking ball,
slowly dimming my lights and making shadows in my room
appear darker and bigger.
My neighbour depression
walks down the street like a black hole,
******* out all the sound around him.
And my neighbour depression
is starting to make me forget what my voice sounded like.
Chris Neilson Aug 2016
I noticed blackberries in my hedge
juicy, ripe and ready for picking 'em
ran for something to put 'em in
don't want anyone else nicking 'em

Washed 'em, rinsed 'em, put 'em in a bag
had a notion to freeze 'em
sealed 'em in a freezer bag
labelled 'em and dated 'em

When my mam next makes a pie
she'll have 'em then defrost 'em
no one makes blackberry pie as good as my mam
when she bakes 'em, she should sell 'em

We sloppily drop our "th's" round our way
if you see other poets, don't tell 'em
Where I live in Northern England, people don't live in our neighbourhood, they live "round our way". i,e "yes, I know Dave Smith, he lives round our way"
Chris Neilson Jul 2016
They're all going to Festwich!
a festival in Prestwich
some bands are rather kitsch
with anticipation the air is rich

Half a mile from my abode
it's only down the road
rock bands set to explode

The chopper's in the sky
fireworks set to fly
i'm not going, why?

It was sold out months ago
my reactions were too slow
I'm now feeling the blow

They're walking past my window
dressed down with a place to go
to a rock n roll tribute show

Rock chicks, metal heads and loons
bands playing my favourite tunes
sporting Led Zep's runes

It's happening all so near
I need something to bring me cheer
I'm crying into my beer

They're all going to Festwich!
I'm going to build my own mosh pit
in my garden where i sit
where i'll stay 'til it's moonlit
Rock n Roll baby!
Eleanor Rigby Mar 2015
It wasn't the heartbreak, no.
It wasn't the anxiety or lack of motivation.
It wasn't the drugs that killed him.

I think that he simply got tired
Of all those lined up houses
In his neighbourhood.


— The End —