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London - poems

Updated on January 5, 2010
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New home...London poems

These two poems were on a previous hub of four poems (Poems with no home) but I thought it was more logical to separate them by theme (vaguely).


take me back to that place

where faces are only different to be the same

and footsteps tap discordant paths

that meld and complete a beat of heart

under some yellow of winter moon

the street lights all a cool insidious urine glow

the smell of it with subway busker

and hotdog stand outside Odeon poster gleam

the pavement messed in food and rain

the desperate scorn of ticket touts

the miserable squeal of emergency vehicles leaving the scene

the crowded throng a texture of animal humanity hunting the vibe

the high inside

and other incongruous outcomes of city filling the void

(in the end too tall too wide too high too much)

with a skeleton key you slip past

the cordoned mind of other intents

like a balaclava’d intruder

with the smell of pissed on cardboard alleyways

or other detritus floating the river -

late night suicide or echoed laughter

the bridge, white in the moon

frames the cool horizon –

a forest of light

like some random electric kite flashing light

building outlines lost in a dark sky:

vaguely framed ghosts -

and in the morning towering ahead

you are fine

the naked honesty of your creation

the alternatives to you too drab to breathe any life

too dull to excite

soporific in the extreme

like towns in the middle

but you hasten the heart and stamp it with your mark

and make it pump blood for you -

jester clown and puppet master

my strings are stretched but for always connected

in a careless moment you raise me up from slumber

and sway me on my heels

then discard me in a slumped heap

just enough to let me know you’re there

still in control

still inside

Richmond Bridge
Richmond Bridge
White Cross Hotel
White Cross Hotel
Heathrow Radar
Heathrow Radar



from the hill an anaconda a slow meander

somewhere there a Rolling Stone and John Mills

and just before the pale sun rises:

a fog licks under white arcs of bridge

slipping past the foot of Water Lane.

The water’s edge is an early yawn,

its surface cut by a breeze and heron feet,

and almost secret beneath the road that feeds

people to the city,

the footpath draws a bland line edged by grass

above the aircraft descend

to Heathrow radar slow rotation

two hundred souls ascend the world

& the river runs oblivious

a green and ancient mind

unconcerned unknowing

reflecting in distortions

the White Cross Hotel fifties red neon sign:

if we are forever

we are the river

a face free of time

rippled in the firmament

beneath an oil slick tide.


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    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 8 years ago from England

      Thanks for your comment Petra, it's a big city, with a lot of variety, if you look you can find what suits you.

    • Petra Vlah profile image

      Petra Vlah 8 years ago from Los Angeles

      I don't really know London that well, but I am getting an idea through your poem. Thank you

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 8 years ago from England

      Thanks for reading and commenting LMS!

    • profile image

      AuthorLMS 8 years ago

      great imagery Hotspur! thanks for sharing.

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 8 years ago from England

      Hi Russ,Ham to Richmond that's a lovely stroll; I used to live in Isleworth so walked the river as often as I could. Glad you liked the poems. Happy strolling!

    • Russ Baleson profile image

      Russ Baleson 8 years ago from Sandhurst, United Kingdom

      Wow, Hotspur, I thoroughly enjoyed both poems, you write so very well!!! I was walking through London with you and you captured so much of what I have experienced - all the senses which feed the emotion. I coincidently walked along the river from Ham to Richmond on Saturday and so connected with 'River' too. Thank you. Russ

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 8 years ago from England

      Many thanks for reading Cris!

    • Cris A profile image

      Cris A 8 years ago from Manila, Philippines

      so vivid and atmospheric, makes me feel I know London like an old friend. Thanks for sharing :D

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 8 years ago from England

      Thanks Micky appreciate you stopping by.

      Hey Vampgyrl, keep on smiling!

      amillar...thanks for your kind words...I'll makes some rhymes (it's just more difficult!)...

      Tammy, hope you visit soon, thanks for your comments.

    • Tammy Lochmann profile image

      Tammy Lochmann 8 years ago

      I enjoyed your poem. I have never been to London, someday I will visit. Thanks for posting this.

    • amillar profile image

      amillar 8 years ago from Scotland, UK

      'Old man river he just keeps rollin' along' (Showboat).

      I'm a country bumpkin hotspur, with an old fashioned understanding of poetry, but you paint a vivid picture with your words.

    • VAMPGYRL420 profile image

      Windy Grace Mason 8 years ago from The Eastern Shore of Virginia, Maryland and Delaware, U.S.A.

      You are an amazing poet, hotspur, always bringing a smile to my face :)

    • Micky Dee profile image

      Micky Dee 8 years ago

      Very nice again Sir! Spur us on Dude!

    • hotspur profile image

      hotspur 8 years ago from England

      Thanks Nell, think your poem could apply to a few other places. How many snobs turn into yobs after dark?

    • Nell Rose profile image

      Nell Rose 8 years ago from England

      Yep, that's London! that was really good! If I wrote about Marlow where I live, it would go somehow like this... good ol' marlow wiv the toffs and the snobs, but out comes the darkness and here comes the yobs!.....Cheers Nell