"praed" poems
At the bus stop on Praed Street
Just arrived on the train
Awaiting the bus, in drizzly rain
On the opposite side
Outside Paddington station
Is the evidence that we are a fast food nation
Burger King, Le gourmet brasserie, Chelsea deli, KFC, Subway, La Taarza cafe, Bagel factory, Costa, Chicken cottage, Bonne Bouch, Victors cafe
I can't see much more
But there are further food stores
We must be obsessed
With coffee and food
Can this be good?
Our waist lines are growing
Our pockets are empty
Yet there's fast food a plenty
There must be a market
They are filling a need
Is it our laziness or greed?
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
On the escape from Paddington station
Up the slope to Praed Street
I enter the daily wall of smoke
Rushing into my lungs
Choking a little life out of me
Until I emerge the other side
And run for my bus
Approaching the office, dragging my feet
The smart revolving doors
Lined by little puffs of smoke
Strategy defined on *** packets
Secret discussions I'll never know
My expensive perfume replaced with a new one
As I enter the lift
It's safe in the pub, if a little chilly
The air is clear, despite the odour of stale beer
But it's warm outside, where the smokers sit
And I'm jealous of their fun
I watch them laughing, sunglasses on
I too, could soak up the sun
But I think I'll stay in here
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC