Adamant
May 22nd, 2019, 02:22 PM
I have been told I should let go of stuff I have kept bottled up for years and writing it down is easier than saying it to someone so i have written a few poems.
This is one. You probbaly need to know that on trains and at stations arouind London they have the repeated security anouncement that i have put in the poem.
Also better say that i am a lot happier than when I first had the idea for the poem which was months ago.
Abandoned
See it
Say it
Sort it
Dee Dom
Dee Dom
Dee Dom
See it
Dee Dom
Say it
Dee Dom
Sort it
Dee Dom
The rhythm of the security message
Merges with the loud rumbling of the train
And needles away, nagging at my brain.
The cosy comforting lie clashing with the
Uncomfortable truth. The exception, perhaps,
To prove the rule – it wasn’t true for me.
See it
Dee Dom
Say it
Dee Dom
Sort it
Dee Dom
A glimpse of white catches my attention.
Down the carriage there sits an abandoned
Crumpled plastic bag. Just a plain, plastic bag.
Is this what the train messages are about?
Report it; be a national hero!
But deep down I know it’s just rubbish.
There is no ticking noise. No burning smell.
But something is inside. Something special,
Maybe, like an old ladies purse or phone.
Get real! Much more likely something worthless
Like a mouldy banana skin or that
Half-eaten sandwich that no-one wants.
Nobody else cares. It must just be rubbish
So when I get off I will do nothing
Apart from wipe the tears from my eye.
Not good tears at the wrong use of plastic
Or recalling some bombing atrocity.
Just selfish -the bag seems so like me.
This is one. You probbaly need to know that on trains and at stations arouind London they have the repeated security anouncement that i have put in the poem.
Also better say that i am a lot happier than when I first had the idea for the poem which was months ago.
Abandoned
See it
Say it
Sort it
Dee Dom
Dee Dom
Dee Dom
See it
Dee Dom
Say it
Dee Dom
Sort it
Dee Dom
The rhythm of the security message
Merges with the loud rumbling of the train
And needles away, nagging at my brain.
The cosy comforting lie clashing with the
Uncomfortable truth. The exception, perhaps,
To prove the rule – it wasn’t true for me.
See it
Dee Dom
Say it
Dee Dom
Sort it
Dee Dom
A glimpse of white catches my attention.
Down the carriage there sits an abandoned
Crumpled plastic bag. Just a plain, plastic bag.
Is this what the train messages are about?
Report it; be a national hero!
But deep down I know it’s just rubbish.
There is no ticking noise. No burning smell.
But something is inside. Something special,
Maybe, like an old ladies purse or phone.
Get real! Much more likely something worthless
Like a mouldy banana skin or that
Half-eaten sandwich that no-one wants.
Nobody else cares. It must just be rubbish
So when I get off I will do nothing
Apart from wipe the tears from my eye.
Not good tears at the wrong use of plastic
Or recalling some bombing atrocity.
Just selfish -the bag seems so like me.