The skyline does not exist,
A marker only for the peaks
Of skyscrapers, spires, roof-
Tops, blocks, monuments.
The eyeline cut from land
To sky as a cloudy figment:
Every one of us overlooked
Despite all idle measurements.
The dogs bark, girders bend
Yawning, screen ears and eyes
From the sallow monstrosity
Of our demise and its ferments.
The shrieking sound of metal
shocked on metal is unnatural,
It scrapes hollow plucking
At the flesh, raking up bone.
Yet they high rise, rattlesnakes
Cranking lofty, vertigo towers
To menace of crane swinging
Ironed concrete levers of groan.
Gargantuan steel claws seize,
Furnaces grind flashing, bring
The railroad, mend the fences,
Dig the trenches, quarry the stone.
Miners coalfaced full of bleary
Supply, demand, hungry bread
Queues for profits and losses,
We are so very, very small.
Infinitesimal burdens of blood
Pitted against the weight of Rome:
Will be a relic, will tumble, even
This empire of urbanity must fall.
Grasses and corn will thrust blind
Through foundations, ivy writhing
Up tower blocks, in windows, fox
Leg cocked, will piss up the wall.
Comments
littleditty | April 10, 2008 - 15:09
your poetry makes me smile -that end line is hilarious for a fox enthusiast like me! brilliant imagery told this story so well - your poetry is great to read, cheers
HaiAnh | April 10, 2008 - 16:47
Hello doeslittle,
Here are some of my impressions from a first reading:
There is a huge amount of pace and force driving this poem forward, the use of repitition, monosylabic words and short lines add to this.
It is a very active and noisy poem, thrusting, shrieking, barking, plucking, writhing...etc. which reflects the ideas you want to express, in terms of creating a sense of the urban city experience.
I also enjoyed the way it starts off quite low key in the first stanza, then you rub out the horizon - I had an image of a straight line oscillating and this turning into a humdrum of all the ingredients of a city. I quite wanted a few smells in there, perhaps to add to the mix. I also wondered if you ended it on a quieter note, once nature has taken over then it would reflect what you're describing and have a rollercoaster effect for the reader, where it builds up then lets them down slowly, until they dismount the poem at the end.
These are just some intial thoughts, it is a very powerful poem. I was once told by a biologist that it would take 60 years for london to be completely taken over by creepers, weeds, etc.. (not sure if this is true) but I very much liked the idea you were expressing in this poem and thought you did it well. An exciting read!
Thank you
Foster | April 11, 2008 - 00:50
Ayn Rand would be proud, and you should be, too. This is good. Except this line, which jarred:
The shrieking sound of metal
On metal is an unnatural one,
maybe something like:
The shrieking sound of metal
On metal is unnatural,
Just a suggestion, DL - you're the poet, not me. But I like this one. Maybe something inspired by The Fountainhead next...?
Doeslittle | April 11, 2008 - 16:56
Thanks for all the comments. littleditty - I love foxes too so I had to have one peeing up against a wall at the end. Will ponder all other helpful suggestions as usual. Thanks for taking the time HaiAnh. When I have finished the unwieldy tome of Atlas Shrugged, Foster, I might think about a Fountainhead one.