SENTINEL POETRY #26 Online Magazine Monthly, January 2005

BEN BARTON

 

The View

 

 I look across this view before me

Panoramic, and exquisite

it stretches for miles

Boundless - only for a pile of washing up

The sofa blocking my horizon.

In the distance, a figure lies sleeping

I find solace in his rhythmic breathing

There is peace

Ethereality breaking from a shaft of light

beaming from the bedside lamp

An electric heater clicks on full power

The radio is my birdsong.

Great mountains of laundry,

peaks of white

This landscape, so unlike any other

remains unmatched

For no other that I have ever seen

has captivated me so.

The green carpet stretches beyond

from room to room

worn thin, haggard, patchy

but still I am startled by the essence of this beauty

It is breathtaking.

 

 

The Dark Cloud of Dover

 

Standing on a rented balcony

peering down

Below; a greying street

Amber signs flash

like marmalade

The people exeunt

suffocating from the rain

Umbrellas scatter -

a silence overtakes

and we sleep.

From this; the dark cloud of Dover.

The smell of fish 'n chips

a taste of kebab

the ice on my fingertips

and the space in my heart

is filled

by the downpour

released

From the dark cloud of Dover.

The stress and toil

my existence here

Lines on my face

stretch for blocks and boroughs

further than the dole queue

and we are all soaked

but still we stand

United.

Drenched; we face the blistering rain

and I bow my head, my mark of respect

for this; the dark cloud of Dover.

 

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