Harry Horsman Poet Free verse

Urban Sprawl

Ancient Jurassic stone
casts out the grime
long gone the fog
of industrial crime.
Main thoroughfare
now left in peace
no local blues to sing
in the old coachman’s Fleece*.

When moonlight bathes
within the silver stream
and moor lane glistens
invoking its crystal beam.
The low moor awakes
shadows cast aside
the morning new
lays waste the genocide.

Yet productive time lords
stake out progression
cloudless valley
unfolds the beast.
Quaint radiant faces
cry out for comfort
summer solace
bequest the east.

The strangers come
in flight from fear
a different way
their actions to sway.
Dialect gives away
its tradition
rustic voice
forever gone astray.

Salacious stiletto
the thorn of the city
each atrocity fuels
the seeds of pity.
Country roses
nurtured in rural delight
wafting delirious
amidst the argillite.

*pub, ale house.

 © Harry J Horsman 1993

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Jennifer Proxenos April 21, 2020 at 7:21 AM Even suburbs are opting for concrete instead of grass and lawns in their gardens and have pot plants to ease their consciousness a little. Fierce but beautiful forest animals have had their homes brought down by lumbermen and wander into cities where high rise buildings are forever being built. How sad. They are probably darted and taken to a zoo. Excellent poem! Blessings, Jennifer

Vladislav Raven April 19, 2020 at 5:12 AM Hi Harry, I love the content of this excellent write. It looks like concrete is taking over the world. A lovely piece of green ends up as a housing estate. Trees that have stood for many years, where they stood, factories, belching death into the air. Give me wide, open spaces, they give peace and life to the heart. Have a wonderful Sunday. Your friend always....Mike.

Silent One March 28, 2020 at 10:07 AM Slowly turning into a concrete jungle...This is great poetry .

Anil Deo March 27, 2020 at 8:00 AM wonderful. I even agree that immigrants alter things, and often away from Native ways/mores. I advocate immigrants be limited to fewer than natives in any region. Of course the city is the proverbial magnet, for gain, crime, and sin. This COVID-19 shows cities are weaker, & more virus-prone than rustic siblings. shalom, shalom & thanks for this grand offering

Judy Ball March 26, 2020 at 5:39 PM It's happening here before my very eyes. This lovely little village became a town and is now a city and is still growing. Where once cattle grazed is a large shopping mall. I hate it. Good job here. God Bless, JB

Ralph Sergi March 26, 2020 at 3:00 PM I think the Muse had you by the throat.I would have to guess what word you chose. Very articulate and portentous!

Sandra Adams March 26, 2020 at 7:50 AM one can see this eerie image as it's unfolding all around the world... excellent write Harry....best wishes in the contest! hugs and blessings

Lindsay Laurie March 24, 2020 at 8:21 PM G'day Harry … we in this little country town that I lived my childhood in with great memories are now the victim of this urban sprawl. Perhaps this pandemic might change things for a very long time - great poem indeed Harry - Lindsay

Mystic Rose Rose March 24, 2020 at 5:38 PM May the good Lord steak our progression and help us to lift off again, when this ordeal is over. Thank you for sharing dear Harry, stay healthy, and prosper xo

Charlie Smith March 24, 2020 at 1:08 PM Bravo Harry, brilliant write...

Eve Roper March 24, 2020 at 10:09 AM Very sad poem, Harry, a city will rise again and fear be gone. Good luck in the contest it has good flow and content.

Joseph May March 23, 2020 at 10:00 PM Your verse has a timeless interpretation Harry, Great write..