Picture courtesy of publications.mcgill.ca
Woken by trucks and
banging just after 5am
As deliverymen noisily
drop of their wares
And the market traders
Have their stalls set up
Yet more banging and
trucks
Then the bin-men arrive,
noisier than them all
As bottles crash into
the jaws of death
I lay wrecked, nerves
torn to shreds
Fatigue heavy on my
mind, body and soul
Quiet descends on my
abode then
But not for long, not
for long
Pigeons have their
turn
Landing on my windowsill,
cooing loudly
Followed by Gulls, their
cries resound in my ears
They just won’t go
away
This place a bedlam
of noise
A barrage of the senses,
an assault of tranquillity and dreams
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Posted in: Poetry
Posted on August 10, 2014
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