Untitled #9

[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

And blue.

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