London Poems
Boadicea
by Alfred Lord Tennyson
While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries
Burnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and Druidess,
Far in the East Boadicea, standing loftily charioted,
Mad and maddening all that heard her in her fierce volubility,
Girt by half the tribes of Britain, near the colony Camulodune,
Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters o'er a wild confederacy.
'They that scorn the tribes and call us Britain's barbarous populaces,
Did they hear me, would they listen, did they pity me supplicating?
Shall I heed them in their anguish? shall I brook to be supplicated?
......
London After The Great Fire, 1666
by John Dryden
Methinks already from this chymic flame
I see a city of more precious mould,
Rich as the town which gives the Indies name,
With silver paved and all divine with gold.
Already, labouring with a mighty fate,
She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow,
And seems to have renewed her charter's date,
Which Heaven will to the death of time allow.
......
Mandalay
by Rudyard Kipling
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
......
Village Virtue
by Robert William Service
Jenny was my first sweetheart;
Poor lass! she was none too smart.
Though I swore she'd never rue it,
She would never let me do it.
When I tried she mad a fuss,
So damn pure and virtuous.
Girls should cozen all they can,
Use their wiles to get their man.
June, my second, was no prude;
......
Inventing Father In Las Vegas
by Lynn Emanuel
If I could see nothing but the smoke
From the tip of his cigar, I would know everything
About the years before the war.
If his face were halved by shadow I would know
This was a street where an EATS sign trembled
And a Greek served coffee black as a dog's eye.
If I could see nothing but his wrist I would know
About the slot machine and I could reconstruct
The weak chin and ruin of his youth, the summer
My father was a gypsy with oiled hair sleeping
......
On Trains - edit
by Scott Sowerby
The lights from the station platform
Flicker on the floor of the carriage
As the train pulls away into the dark
My fingers and toes counteract
The toing - froing, pushing
Hard into the floor and handrail
Under the my fingers white
Knuckled stoney eyed. I stare
......
London
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
London,
a great house standing by
a long water,
bathed by a golden sun
behind the closed doors
of the eastern clouds
that send stuttering rains
even on the hearth of summer
to salute all that pass
the kennels of the
......
Space in Mayfair
by Steven Andreev
There is a space in Mayfair,
Not far from Hanover Square,
Where we walk when the sun darkens,
That’s called Mount Street Gardens,
Where paths lead us often
To find a new affair.
First time we cycled off Trafalgar Square,
Shooting past streets on a bike by funfair,
It was early spring and the leaves were green,
......
Spring Trip to London
by Steven Andreev
The weary winter passed to leave us with nothing but
Estrangement from each other. As I sat in my damp student dorm,
Writing essay on Alienation, alternating between shots of
Tea, vodka and gin, brooding about the last time I saw you alone.
Nothing interrupted my concentrated efforts, besides the sound of
Keyboard under my fingers, until a bird chirped by my window
And awoke me to notice the first carnations of season. I rushed
To my bedroom, grabbed a tweed jacket and ran to train station.
......
Contemplation
by Steven Andreev
This is a day of contemplation
When autumn finally falls down on the capital
After months of desert-style heat, that burnt us more inside than out.
In the dust of general stagnation
One counts all the capital, another the lack of it
While I sit in indignation, staring at the building blocking the view of the park.
And remember the days when a park was not a tiny square,
But was Richmond Park that opened up by her and me.
......
