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For April's Poem of the Month I have chosen the poem 'London pt 1' by Daniel C. Bristow. It is taken from his new collection London.

If you enjoy this poem, you can purchase his collection here.







 

London pt.1

Avid Gaile
    Limited
Licensed Sex Shop
    W1/W2
Manette Street, Charing Cross Road
    Drizzle-ridden Soho
Like an Amsterdam opening
    Without the gusto
Neon umbrellas reflect
    The electric rain

The gherkin in the pickled evening
    The gangrenous penis seen
From Bank balcony
    After Camden, reforming…
Shisha pipes drawing the
    Close of day, as Cedric
And Omar take the stage
    We discuss your conclusions
Met in collusion; on the
    Error of my ways.

Sylvia Plath accompanies me now
    In this place where life is so immediate,
On the tube trains to Mile End
    And Notting Hill Gate; where the
Realists must call ‘real,’ and
    Wyndham Lewis still exhibits.
Study every face on an escalator
    And fall in love with every other
Woman’s. But even Hyde Park, when
    Quiet in the even, isn’t Stephen’s Green.

I’m not a big fan of the London
    Ales, but the Guinness is good in
Sawyers and Dickens; stowed
    Away in a coved corner of the
Pub on a rainy day; medium,
    Late and grey. Claustrophobic and
Disinterested; stories starving to be told –
    A tale of a tube, of a pub, of
The little boy lost, drowning sorrows and
    Morrows in London’s prosody.

But this is the poet’s city:
    Something ethereally; underground
As much as o’er, creative of woebegone
    Wonderment, more than Reading
Or Didcot, clasps the county-
    Boy’s hand and racks his brain socket,
Filling his head with ideas,
    Stifled by the heavy breathings
Of those buried tunnels.
    – It’s yours, mover and shaker.

Paddington Station arches grandly;
    Wood, glass and metal above me.
But Paris Nord has better destinations;
    Bruxelles or Lille over Greenford and Radley,
And Amsterdam’s station was full of
    Angels; Madrid’s streamed golden light.
No little lost bear there though;
    With a red hat and a blue coat,
Who could never mix his paint right:
    London had coloured my morning’s night
.



Copyright © Daniel Bristow 2013
All rights reserved
The author has asserted her/his right under Section 77
of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988
to be identified as the author of this work.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library.