London’s finest transport…
February 14, 2008 at 9:06 pm (Life)
Doors open wide to reveal a sea of insomnia;
Another day, another week, another year.
Life engulfed by the presence of the mundane.
Monday discloses the stench of beer;
Tuesday and the seats are haunted by job-loss-fear.
Wednesday - bosses nightmare, raises drive them insane;
Thursday they prepare for tomorrow’s shag-fest terrain.
Friday - laughter, alcohol and sex is London’s hysteria.
Saturday morning’s hangover manifests peace;
The evening infested by the immortal deceased.
Vampires, they hide during the day,
Awaiting the sunset to bring recovery and the prey.
Sunday morning is blessed by the touch of God,
The newly induced hangover demands greasy chips and cod.
All the while love is dismissed with a mournful nod.
Sunday evening, the time for a humble retreat,
Head and pillow reluctantly meet;
Anticipating this destructive cycle’s painful repeat.
incognitio
Infinite Fly said,
February 21, 2008 at 1:06 pm
I like this. The traditional style with contemporary subject matter. It reminds me of a formulaic Jim Morrisson poem from his ‘Note Book’ or ‘The American Prayer’. Writing in rhyme can often sound trite and overly sentimental, yet, there is none of that here.
incognitio said,
February 26, 2008 at 1:01 am
It’s true, you have pointed out a desire to bring back a traditional style of poetry that is definitely there.
I believe that some things should be conserved, like the art of rhyme in poetry. Poetry with rhyme I find induces more emotion in the reader, but what’s even more interesting is that the writer’s emotions as he is writing it are doubled. It leaves the writer with a smile after each rhyming word, especially if it misses the triteness you referred to.
It could be the flow, I don’t know, all I know is that it is definitely there. Thank you for your comments. Sadly I have not given myself the time to check out yours yet, as much, mostly a glance through without commenting, my apologies.