Frying Pan (Rewrite)
...inspired by 'Blues' by Joseph Brodsky
Many springs have come and gone,
the city roars and wheezes,
concrete monsters block the prospect
and restrain the balmy breezes.
Summers stifle, streets are steaming,
hydrants bring some small relief,
merchants battle with the street gangs,
struggle on in blind belief.
Canyons strangle, subways throttle,
autumn bleeds its red and gold,
chilly now as winter beckons
with its shroud of killing cold.
Jersey summons 'cross the river,
yet another frying pan,
in the cauldron of convection,
cradle of the modern man.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment