|The Thames At Low Tide
|A joint effort with my wife|
The Thames at low tide shows its fissured bed,
unseen by those who pass above on London's latest bridge,
or London's winter clouds that hang about, desultory overhead
But for some: Turner, Monet, Whistler, such stirring sights have led
them to translucent views of Bow and Greenwich.
The Thames at low tide shows its fissured bed.
Old boats aground in mud, adrift in fog, their clumsy bulk spread
across canvas like some floating, silk veiled village
or solid chunks of civil engineering ablaze in ochre, flame and red.
Look closely at those paintings now, networks of tiny threads
weave through colour as contour lines on maps define a hill or ridge,
The Thames at low tide shows its fissured bed
As if the water's ebb and flow dictates what should be said
to those few, chosen to bear its timeless message
that all is linked: time, cloud, river tributaries, edges bled.
Now blue chip culture of chrome and metal, glass and fret,
obscure the riverside that Francis Bacon couldn't paint, the image
of the Thames at low tide that shows its fissured bed,
depicting treacherous depths and sinuous surface gleam instead.
1 Mar 05
Rated 8 (8.5) by 1 users.
Inactive (3): 8, 8, 9, 9
(define the words in this poem)
(683 more poems by this author)
Add A Comment:
You obviously put a lot of hard work into this, but unfortunately bored me to tears.
oh this is good.
there is a lot of space though. less like fissured beds than the silence between my partner and i when we aren't speaking to each other.
crikey champ. have you read it out loud. can you not follow the syllables as they rise, meet and collide. the soft alliteration and the unforced rhyme. the repetitions like the tide?
it captures the thames river bed at low-tide very well. of course there is no mention of condoms, dead gulls and hyperdermic needles, nor any reference to an old boot formerly known as Mrs Patterson before she was sliced in two and stuffed into a suitcase.
but now i'm going off on a tangent.
I guess I'll just have to drown my sorrows in the Thames at low tide them.
Larry in sorrow Lark
Larry, this is good. Like kal said tho - a lot of white space...intentional?
Kal - you describe the Thames perfectly - ours anyway, haven't seen yours - condoms, hypos and beer bottles here - hell of a party that was.
i'm figuring the white space as a visual ... long laps between shallow waves ... i like the language of this, except for the line break at 5 & 6 ... each time i read it, i stumble to a halt there, have to gather and start again
writing is excellent content leaves me needing more
boring as fukin hell
so boring in fact i ate my cul de sac before makin it to de end
mind you don't get indigestion and by the way eating too much tarmac induced road rage so get on yer bike.