KENSINGTON'S LAMENT
*This poem was written for "Kensington Avenue Poetry Contest, Anthony Biaanco, sponsor, July 20, 2025
KENSINGTON'S LAMENT
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Her city streets are grey and worn, with a denim sky overhead. Birdsong trickles out in fractured waves, as if feathered friends cried while flying her way. Engines sputter; horns blare. People hurry by her in silence, eyes down, broken only by shouts or violence.
In the heart of the city, Kensington stands.
Her factories whisper of glory long past,
In shadows of brick, distant memories are recast.
Kensington once stood proud, her arms open wide.
She wore garments created from vibrant thread,
Her looms danced like children, with dreams in their heads.
But deindustrialization’s cruel hands silenced her workers.
The mills closed their doors, leaving Kensington barren and bare.
Homelessness, crime, and poverty crept in, like a thief unaware.
Now she wears rags of neglect, tattered and frayed,
Her children, once hopeful, now wander with fear,
As the specter of poverty hovers ever near.
Her streets, once alive, are overgrown with weeds.
The stories of families, of struggle and pride,
Now faded like echoes that time and ruin hides.
“Can you hear my history’s soft echoes?” she asks.
“I am more than the ruins and scars I wear,
More than the weight of past despair.”
“I yearn to reach for something more!” she shouts.
“You have so much to gain, it’s true.
In healing me, you’ll find you too.”
Revitalize me,” she desperately pleads.
“Through sidewalk cracks, the sunlight streams.
I beg you! Help awaken my forgotten dreams.”
Copyright ©
Sara Baker
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