Canto CCXI

This stretch of the river has been known to send
artistic souls into a proper fit—
William Wordsworth couldn’t comprehend

the passersby whose humours were not set
aflame by its ripples as the sun dipped,
and Whistler’s kind of blue became a net

that smothered factories and passing ships.
Fast forward to nowadays and see them all—
the Creatives, understated but hip,

sat down around the Royal Festival Hall,
working on their latest masterpiece—
an application to the Arts Council.

Sometimes they look up from their Macbook screens
to see the river glimmering before them,
then return to the task at hand again,

already mindless of that slight distraction.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Apr 09, 2012 @ 09:06:45

    Yes…it’s the observation the feeling for a thing that is the exciting bit, writing it down, searching for the words is the hard bit. If it were not for the words I could write reams of poetry.


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