Brook Street

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Brook Street is a poem written by Arnold Thomas. You can read more of Arnold's poems and see his pictures at

Submitted: June 11, 2008

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Submitted: June 11, 2008



Brook Street
Brook Street
The red is coloured card
Unlike the whiskers of the cat in the yard
Unlike the fierce menace of tapdancers in the field
I once used them as a shield to guard the floor
I remember the ambulance
The fast rope that held it back
The metal tracks it left
I didn’t follow them anywhere
In fact I let them fade and now the days are dragging
Perhaps its that icy wish I have about your fingers
That keeps this wheel in anguish
Or maybe just the sun
That bright linguistic inorganism
Foreign as balsa trees
A pile of leaves was left for me to wrap it up
I let them alone as well
No one can tell
Not by looking
It dosen’t show so clearly
The chemistry is all wrong for frightening sheep
Sometimes I can’t sleep when light goes
What’s he so bloody happy about
With that bullet in his hand
Wait  -  for the command
I don’t want it to go on too long
I don’t want to build large buildings
I want to furnish your thought
I just want that
In Brook Street

© Copyright 2018 Arnold Thomas. All rights reserved.

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