I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: 'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
They sent me a salwar kameez
&nb sp; peacock-blue,
& nbsp; and another
glistening like an orange split open,
embossed slippers, gold and black
&nbs p; points curling.
Candy-striped glass bangles
&n bsp; snapped, drew blood.
Like at school, fashions changed
&n bsp; in Pakistan -
And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
andI mount the scabbed streets,
the long shouts of avenues,
and tunnel sunken night in search of you...
That I negotiate fog, bituminous
rain rining like teeth into the beggar's tin,
or two men jackaling a third in some alley
weirdly lit by a couch on fire, that I
Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.
What shall I do?
Go and sit in the hall, dear.
Go and sit in the sink.
Take your books on the roof, my lamb.
Do whatever you think.
Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it,
Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper,
Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties,
Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows,
Without you I'd spend my summers picking morosley over the remains of train crashes,
Without you white birds would wrench themselves free from my paintings and fly off dripping blood into the night,
Without you green apples wouldn't taste greener,
The barber's final ceremony,
all the ways you used to be
thrown out with your hair.
A house fire's sloppy augury,
your life transformed
as neighbors look on.
I was a diligent safety engineer, modifying the hazardous work practices,
Like the thrilling festive celebrations, when you open up pretty packages!
I took my work very seriously, and my motto had long been safety first,
Like waiting all the livelong day, for gone currant sun's huge color burst.
My word was always trusted, for people valued my professional opinion,
As pearlescent moon values jet darkness, when gazing on her dominion.
I made sure workers abided by safety rules, and it gave me satisfaction,
I was a public relations specialist, ever promoting positivity to people,
As positivity is promoted afar, by the sight of the towering cathedral.
My work was very interesting, there weren't ever two days the same,
As an exotic world of ages past, would be dazed at what time became.
For ten years, I had held that job, and I was often required to travel,
As breezes gusting into dining rooms, often must blow out the candle!
I lived in a large metropolitan area, and drove to my valued job daily,
I was a famous conductor, and performing beautiful music was my joy,
As diamond sunshine, to pervade darkness, finds any means to employ.
Music had long been a part of me, in that I sang long before conducting,
Like the famed adult bluebird choirs, lead the songs they are instructing.
My much loved work kept me busy. Still, I loved every precious moment,
As wild, crazy, summer colors dash afar, with no cries of encroachment.
But I had a personal favorite song, which I loved more than any other,
In the evening madcap hour of rush, rush, rush,
All of glittering green nature is so still and hush,
And skies surrender deep blues, to various hues,
Flashy cars racing like arrows, on leafy avenues.
Ever in a hurry, in pursuit of a gold, receding sun,
As blooms in windy kingdoms, not to be outdone!
Starlight falls down in colors, darkness is coming,
Soon in mulberry midnight, wild dreams will sing.