Sunday, 14 August 2011

WALKABOUTSVERSE 41 OF 230

Poem 41 of 230:  EVEN AFTER LINCOLN, STEINBECK, AND KING

Written at a public toilet, by the
    Statue of Liberty:
“What of Equality, Fraternity;
    And Democracy!?”

The U.S.A. has aided dictators
    (Right-Wing leaders, of course),
So some’s bestowal of democracy
    Is hypocrisy.

(C) David Franks 2003

Saturday, 13 August 2011

WALKABOUTSVERSE 42 OF 230

Poem 42 of 230:  IMPRESSIONS OF LONDON IN 1997

(TUNE:

E2 F#3 G1 G1 A3 G2 F#2 F#3
E2 F#1 F#1 F#1-G3 F#2 E2 E3
E2 G1 G1 G3 A2 A2 G1 G3
E2 F#1 F#1 F#1-G3 F#2 E2 E3)

Cabs all uniform in their shape.
    Good galleries make one gape.
Hard-going people on the move -
    Things matter much in this groove.

About the weather lots of moans.
    Solicits stuck on pay-phones.
Summer weather - not bad, I’ve felt.
    Lads giving a ball a belt.

Real estate is worth so much -
    Tenants’ rent sky-high, as such;
Nice stocky buildings all around -
    Will some have to hit the ground?

Cheek to jowl:  council flats needed -
    Stock by demand exceeded;
Building higher seems only way -
    Unless less arrive to stay...

Beaut. looking girls from many lands -
    Grace gone for capital plans;
Polite folks, from many cultures,
    Do become money vultures.

Veiled women in platform shoes.
    High-street beggars in the blues.
Privacy here costs so much -
    Partnerships suffer, as such.

See movies and shows from way back;
    Of good music there’s no lack;
All-day breakfasts at the good pubs;
    An abundance of nightclubs.

Green groomed parklands:  the best I’ve seen -
    Their gardens kept neat and clean.
Geraniums in flowerpots,
    On facades, make pleasing spots.

Floating pubs on the River Thames,
    And its bridges - real gems;
Both ways, here, the water goes -
    Still in range of tidal-flows.

Children, at park lakes, feed the ducks,
    Or watch squirrels take some nuts.
Into ponds, weeping willows sag.
    Sharp attacks on those who lag.

(C) David Franks 2003
Hear here - http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=28451


















The above pics are closely linked to the lyrics; below is a more-random selection of my London favorites.

London; 16/6/16

Now that's a buoy! The Thames from Rotherhithe
London‬; 12/6/16

A room with a view at Surrey Quays,
London; 10.6.2016

Wonderful window at Saint
Martin-in-the-Fields; 30.5.2016

Primrose Hill view of London; 23/5/2016

Hampstead Heath's attractive trees,
London; 16/5/2016

Highgate Men's (& ducks!) Bathing Pond,
London; 16/5/16

Gherkin, Cheese Grater, Walkie-Talkie,
Saint Paul's, & Shard, from Parliament Hill,
London; 16/5/16

Shard-view, including its own shadow; 4/5/16 

Harrods - should it be nationalised? 10/5/16

Epping Forest, London; 20/5/2016

From Cross Rail's roof-top garden,
Canary Wharf, London, 13/7/2016

View of Canary Wharf & the O2,
from Greenwich Park, London; 12/8/16

National Maritime Museum, Greenwich; 12/8/16

Painted Hall, Greenwich; 12/8/2016

Cutty Sark, Greenwich; 12/8/2016

Outside Natural History Museum,
South Kensington; 29/12/2016

Friday, 12 August 2011

WALKABOUTSVERSE 43 OF 230

Poem 43 of 230:  A BAYSWATER BED-SIT

Arrived in London,
    At Heathrow Airport,
With sixty kilos
    Of luggage I'd brought.

Found a paper, Loot,
    And called an agent;
Stored two heavy bags,
    Then to him I went.

For one week of rent,
    He'd ensure a bed
Within Bayswater -
    A bed-sit, he said.

It was eighty pounds
    Per week (nothing more),
With a lift arranged
    To the building's door.

Jet-lagged and sleepless,
    I took the deal;
Checked-in quickly,
    Had a rushed meal.

Collected my bags
    (Tube there, shared-van back),
Then carried them up
    To my top-floor shack.

A penthouse - no need,
    It did me just fine:
A cook-top and fridge,
    A table to dine.

Seated, I could watch
    The clouds roll by -
Often from the west -
    Or jets cut the sky.

There were large plane-trees,
    A squirrel or two;
And pigeons dropped by -
    Foregrounding the view.

Plus, at dawn, the sun
    Shone in from the east -
Filling the small room
    As on toast I’d feast.

And, contemplating,
    It occurs to me -
If all lived that well,
    How great it would be.

But a lot do sleep
    Outdoors many nights -
On sheets of cardboard,
    Without basic rights.

(C) David Franks 2003





Thursday, 11 August 2011

WALKABOUTSVERSE 44 OF 230

Poem 44 of 230:  JOB SEARCHING

Once housed in London,
    I began searching
For new employment -
    The task was trying.

Asked newsagents:
    “Manufacturing -
Which paper’s the best?”
    They disliked browsing.

About five of them
    Said they did not know,
Then eventually:
    Jobsearch is the go.

Employment agents -
    Public and private;
Letters; door knocking;
    Then work - just pre-debt.

(C) David Franks 2003

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

WALKABOUTSVERSE 45 OF 230

Poem 45 of 230:  PORTOBELLO ROAD

After questing forever,
    I bought an old blade-putter
On Portobello Road -
    By my London abode.

‘Twas the Saturday market,
    And I was pleased with my get
From Portobello Road -
    W10 the code.

Also saw the festival,
    And many another stall,
At Portobello Road -
    A good arts and crafts node.

(C) David Franks 2003






Tuesday, 9 August 2011

WALKABOUTSVERSE 46 OF 230

Poem 46 of 230:  THE NOTTING HILL CARNIVAL

The carnival
    Of Notting Hill:
A cultural
    Quite-overt bill.

Moving-discos
    On big lorries -
Their beat echoes
    For all to please.

Whistles, drums, hands;
    Soca, reggae;
And steel bands:
    All make crowds stay.

Red, yellow, green -
    Grouped together -
Are often seen,
    As is samba.

Huge cloth-people
    Are wire-bound:
Wings the staple-
    Apparel found.

Following floats:
    Walking lap-dance,
And some keen folks
    Drummed into trance.

People-traffic
    Flowing one-way;
Cops terrific -
    Keep things okay.

But growth of crowd
    Raises food-cost -
Touts seem allowed...
    Some spirit lost?

And it made me
    (Back from my roam),
Culturally,
    Feel not-home.

(C) David Franks 2003

Monday, 8 August 2011

WALKABOUTSVERSE 47 OF 230

Poem 47 of 230:  A LOSS FOR HUMANITY

Summer's end, '97,
    A car crash in France;
Then thousands of cut flowers -
    Some bearers in trance.

For Diana broke-even -
    Now resting in peace;
A loss for humanity -
    Her caring did cease.

For, while taking her perks
    (Perks there should not be),
She gave greatly of herself
    In kind-charity:

Charity good states would free.

(C) David Franks 2003

Hyde Park memorial; 18/4/2016




Kensington 2014