Driving Through London

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A poem about driving, and what you see...

Driving past colourful billboards

On the corners of red-brick blocks.

Cafés with neon signs and shops

Left over from the seventies.

Litter lines the pavements as a

Small boy plays football with his friends

And dodges cars as he does so.

 

Driving past bowling alleys and

Victorian houses and streets.

Past modern ugly blocks of flats

And 485 red paint busses.

Police stations and ambulances

Blur into view through the windscreen

And noise comes from every corner.

 

Driving past a family of four.

Mum takes the wheel as Dad searches

Through a battered A-to-Z for

A way home. Children in the back

Squabble over doll-mixtures

In-between hopeless forlorn cries

Of: ‘please Mummy, are we there yet?’

 

Driving past joggers with i-pods

And cyclists with yellow jackets.

Past buildings of concrete and brick

And stone and glass and metal too.

Homes and hair-dresses all pass by,

Catching fleeting interest. But then

We swerve onto the motorway.

 

And we are free.


Submitted: May 21, 2009

© Copyright 2020 The Silver Scribe. All rights reserved.

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silverwolf

Very good I can picture the street your on.

Thu, May 21st, 2009 10:14pm

Author
Reply

thanks

Fri, May 22nd, 2009 12:28am

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