A Night’s Medley
The tinkle of bells
And trinkets. Murmurs
Rise from gossips
And a whistle of a train;
Distant yet piercing.
The water boils,
Soft bubbles burst.
Some drunken brawl travels
Through opaque walls.
A smash. A scream.
Silence. Murmurs
Rise from daily lessons.
The scent of spices,
Jasmine, soap and sweat
Mingle with the flies
In food stalls and drains.
Footsteps echo through
Lifeless roads. Wheels
Clatter and hooves
Stomp. Workers walk
To and fro amidst
The nightly show.
Lights gleam through
Smoky curtains.
Red, green, yellow-
Patterns form and
Disappear on the walls.
Nights don't sleep
In the lighted lanes
Crowded with enjoyment.
Hoots and cries...
A frightened dog slips
Between two men,
Four, six, eight and more.
People weave in.
People weave out.
As the city snores,
The bazaar awakens.
The midnight story
Ends at dawn,
When grey fingers
Brush the horizon.
And the poet who
Witnessed it all,
Wakes up from
A fitful sleep just
Under the clock tower.
It's three.
Tired steps
Shuffle towards
A rickety door.
Connecting the Dots
I was lying on my back in the wet grass trying to connect the multitude of dots in the night sky, so that I could then paint between their lines. My hope was that a picture of God might emerge from out of the chaos, but then the breaking dawn either completed the painting for me, or erased all of my work. I wish I knew which.
Wash your hands, stay at home, isolate..
Locked up, imprisoned, under house arrest, quarantined, whatever you want to call it, it’s all the same to me. Loss of liberty is more like it!
Who do they mean, what do they mean? Stay at home, don’t go out, look at them all, running to the shop, no mask, no gloves, emptying the shelves of dried foods to hide away in their little nests, it’s a me me society!
Who cares about another human being, I see people fighting over toilet paper on the TV, getting their fifteen minutes of fame on our TV screens, the anger clear and in full HD! No one cares!
They are all liars those MP’s that talk cheap to us all, who do they think they are kidding with their sound bites and private nannies looking after their kids and housekeepers running to the shops fighting just so that you, our MP’s can wipe your arses in comfort and eat your fancy food.
Clap for the nurses; clap because they have no protection despite the MP’s telling us every day how much they admire and respect them. Into battle they go, over the top, let’s go, no rifle, no PPE, no aprons, not a round of ammunition in the breach! But we clap them and they continue the fight!
Clap for the refuse collectors who take your rubbish away so we are not infested with rats! The shit jobs! Neglected by those in power for years, voted against having a pay rise, but we need them now our heroes.
Locked up, imprisoned, under house arrest, quarantined, whatever you want to call it, it’s all the same to me because I am vulnerable and I’m in the category its official! I am confined to quarters, me, this old lady with no one to get my toilet paper..................
©Celia Poppinjay – 28th May 2020