cold,hard land

       this cold,hard land
       where strange things dwell
       old settees piled in a corner
       by rotting lock-ups
       and cans and bottles
       clogging bushes
       that are already collapsing
       into early winter
       while plastic
       ragged in the branches
       like Tibetan prayer flags
       in a silent,alien place
       yet,further on,noise comes
       as buses snort down roads
       that are choked
       by cars in slow procession
       grinding slowly to a halt
       as i halt,back here
       where the world is deathly still
       in itself
       waiting for winter
       waiting wearily
       for Christmas to erupt
       in all the senses
       a relentless bombardment
       of expectation
       and no expenses spared
       spare me from this awful apprehension
       this hysteria
       dwindling down to a lost day
       in a lost fortnight
       in a drowning Earth
       while the poor have no cake
       so let them eat
       turkey
       bred and sliced for the occasion.....dave hobbs

V	Email Poem

Please Critique This Poem

Sign In	Meet the Poets.
Privacy Policy	My Poetry List
Search For Poetry!	Today's Poetry - All Poets