[This is the first poem that I’m putting up here. My poems are generally free verse and remain untitled. I am not a poet by trade, but I find them an interesting medium to get across feelings that are harder to define.]
The tower block collapses in the distance.
A lonely high-rise condemned
Just like we have been.
We disagreed to disagree,
And agreed separately
To drag it all down with us,
Until there was nothing left.
The two sides of a fifty-pence piece smile,
And all the while the ink on the newspaper cries.
The television speaks of our death
In hushed tones
Right to our faces
And solves nothing.
You told me to be there at three
But the roads were already piled with the cars
And the bodies
I set off too late, and I can do nothing but stand.
Fires begin across the city.
Soon the countryside burns too.
The petrol that soaks the streets
Lights up in a line –
The sky is beautiful