waterloo bridge
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Waterloo Bridge
Tonight I am contemplating giving up this race
Letting the cat out of the bag and plunging all into dim obscurity
But like the dog chasing its tail inside my brain
It’s a no win situation; to escape
I put on bright colours and pedal off; it’s winter
And my gloves are thick - “windstoppers” they call them -
But nothing stops the wind of course, it just prolongs the inevitable,
Dampens the force
Headlights search me out - thank god or I’d be under a bus;
I sing to myself for company
“Watch it!” as a another car lurches menacingly out of a junction
“Hello! I am here you know!”
And then the tirade of horns as I move into the right-hand lane
On trial for my life; these hybrid freaks should keep to the gutters
Where we don’t have to see them
I pass an old man slumped in the door of a church moaning softly into a bottle
Let them all drown in obscurity
Let them eat cake
Caught off guard I am swept into the gutter by a four-by-four with one person in it
Money owns the road here, money and disregard for air
The voices in my head subside as I cross the park; lights in a row like
Knights with poles that glow, watching out for me in the murky dark
I know where I am headed now there is only one place to go
And it calls me on through Piccadilly, mad bright noisy circus
Of people, everywhere, jutting out like angry corners, belching off pavements
Overflowing like pans on the boil, on the hunt for entertainment, satisfaction,
Hungry for london
Some of them cross my path and I ring my bell to receive the token abuse
For what right do I have to ponce about the streets
Like some victorian relic I don’t even wear a mask
So I can’t be taken that seriously
But I do exist, and even that’s starting to feel like something worth clinging to
Amidst this seething mass of bodies
Crushed by a bus I stop for a moment, take in leicester square
Still separate, an onlooker to the great feast, nobody knows I’m there
And im starting to wonder myself; but wondering gets you nowhere
On the road – a taxi speeds down charing cross taking off my right arm –
And some dull drunk jumps out in front to make me swerve
Just for a laugh, you know “darling, can you can you give me a lift, can I have a ride?”
Progress sails me up the strand on a wind of change, ignoring traffic lights
Dodging police cars, oblivious to all but my one end: and there it is
I turn the corner to mount the bridge and all at once the crowds disperse,
Draw back, are defeated by this open challenge;
A gusty squall of rain quenches my angry brow
And redness fades to blue
There is nobody else in this world
Just Waterloo Bridge, St. Paul’s and I
Braving the elements together, brothers in arms against the tourists,
Traffic, pigeons and the weather
I hit the centre as the sky unzips its bulbous load
And drenches all of us
Without preference ; pedestrians ran for cover long ago
Motorists huddled in cars slap on wipers, cursing the dashboard “bloody english weather”
what a day! “I’ve only just washed this windscreen” (liar)
“but what a good thing we parked
so close to the theatre!”
Soaked, I breathe in the breath of old stone, wet river,
The majesty of past, present and future looms above,
Beyond, ahead and underwheel,
Mud splashed up my legs I am a miracle!
A survivor, a pioneer of independent grace
I have taken the bridge, I have paid for my sins
I have entered this space and washed the slate clean
With a vengeance of dragons
That melts to curtains on the south bank
At last, nobody, nothing, nowhere to go
And no one to stop me going
Tonight I am contemplating giving up this race
Letting the cat out of the bag and plunging all into dim obscurity
But like the dog chasing its tail inside my brain
It’s a no win situation; to escape
I put on bright colours and pedal off; it’s winter
And my gloves are thick - “windstoppers” they call them -
But nothing stops the wind of course, it just prolongs the inevitable,
Dampens the force
Headlights search me out - thank god or I’d be under a bus;
I sing to myself for company
“Watch it!” as a another car lurches menacingly out of a junction
“Hello! I am here you know!”
And then the tirade of horns as I move into the right-hand lane
On trial for my life; these hybrid freaks should keep to the gutters
Where we don’t have to see them
I pass an old man slumped in the door of a church moaning softly into a bottle
Let them all drown in obscurity
Let them eat cake
Caught off guard I am swept into the gutter by a four-by-four with one person in it
Money owns the road here, money and disregard for air
The voices in my head subside as I cross the park; lights in a row like
Knights with poles that glow, watching out for me in the murky dark
I know where I am headed now there is only one place to go
And it calls me on through Piccadilly, mad bright noisy circus
Of people, everywhere, jutting out like angry corners, belching off pavements
Overflowing like pans on the boil, on the hunt for entertainment, satisfaction,
Hungry for london
Some of them cross my path and I ring my bell to receive the token abuse
For what right do I have to ponce about the streets
Like some victorian relic I don’t even wear a mask
So I can’t be taken that seriously
But I do exist, and even that’s starting to feel like something worth clinging to
Amidst this seething mass of bodies
Crushed by a bus I stop for a moment, take in leicester square
Still separate, an onlooker to the great feast, nobody knows I’m there
And im starting to wonder myself; but wondering gets you nowhere
On the road – a taxi speeds down charing cross taking off my right arm –
And some dull drunk jumps out in front to make me swerve
Just for a laugh, you know “darling, can you can you give me a lift, can I have a ride?”
Progress sails me up the strand on a wind of change, ignoring traffic lights
Dodging police cars, oblivious to all but my one end: and there it is
I turn the corner to mount the bridge and all at once the crowds disperse,
Draw back, are defeated by this open challenge;
A gusty squall of rain quenches my angry brow
And redness fades to blue
There is nobody else in this world
Just Waterloo Bridge, St. Paul’s and I
Braving the elements together, brothers in arms against the tourists,
Traffic, pigeons and the weather
I hit the centre as the sky unzips its bulbous load
And drenches all of us
Without preference ; pedestrians ran for cover long ago
Motorists huddled in cars slap on wipers, cursing the dashboard “bloody english weather”
what a day! “I’ve only just washed this windscreen” (liar)
“but what a good thing we parked
so close to the theatre!”
Soaked, I breathe in the breath of old stone, wet river,
The majesty of past, present and future looms above,
Beyond, ahead and underwheel,
Mud splashed up my legs I am a miracle!
A survivor, a pioneer of independent grace
I have taken the bridge, I have paid for my sins
I have entered this space and washed the slate clean
With a vengeance of dragons
That melts to curtains on the south bank
At last, nobody, nothing, nowhere to go
And no one to stop me going
I read the entire thing, and what screams out at me is "cliches." I'm not talking about the themes and subject - those were were not cliche. Even if they were, how would I know seeing as I've never been to England?
But in the lines...
"Letting the cat out of the bag"
"plunging all into dim obscurity"
"the dog chasing its tail"
"a no win situation"
"it just prolongs the inevitable"
"Let them all drown in obscurity"**(also a repeat^)
"Let them eat cake"
"a wind of change"
"I have paid for my sins"
"washed the slate clean"
"nowhere to go"
Becuse I've heard so many of these things before, and the analogies have such baggage with them, I'm having trouble understanding what the poem is about.
There were good lines too:
"I pass an old man slumped in the door of a church moaning softly into a bottle"
"lights in a row like
Knights with poles that glow, watching out for me in the murky dark
I know where I am headed now there is only one place to go"
...and more that I don't have time to cut and paste, let alone fully digest in one sitting.
And so my feelings on this one are mixed. Purged of the cliches, I think this poem has amazing potential.
- Caleb
But in the lines...
"Letting the cat out of the bag"
"plunging all into dim obscurity"
"the dog chasing its tail"
"a no win situation"
"it just prolongs the inevitable"
"Let them all drown in obscurity"**(also a repeat^)
"Let them eat cake"
"a wind of change"
"I have paid for my sins"
"washed the slate clean"
"nowhere to go"
Becuse I've heard so many of these things before, and the analogies have such baggage with them, I'm having trouble understanding what the poem is about.
There were good lines too:
"I pass an old man slumped in the door of a church moaning softly into a bottle"
"lights in a row like
Knights with poles that glow, watching out for me in the murky dark
I know where I am headed now there is only one place to go"
...and more that I don't have time to cut and paste, let alone fully digest in one sitting.
And so my feelings on this one are mixed. Purged of the cliches, I think this poem has amazing potential.
- Caleb
Last edited by pseud on Wed Apr 06, 2005 2:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Don't treat your common sense like an umbrella. When you come into a room to philosophize, don't leave it outside, but bring it in with you." Wittgenstein
- camus
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Did you meet Terry and Julie?
Sorry can't help relating it to the Classic, Waterloo sunset, of course. Also -
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
Definitely a place to existentialise, a place of inspiration, which you have used well. I agree there are some cliches that could be weeded out, but there is also a sense of foreboding, of claustrophobia which I enjoyed.
Sorry can't help relating it to the Classic, Waterloo sunset, of course. Also -
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
Definitely a place to existentialise, a place of inspiration, which you have used well. I agree there are some cliches that could be weeded out, but there is also a sense of foreboding, of claustrophobia which I enjoyed.
http://www.closetpoet.co.uk
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thanks for your comments guys. i suppose what i was trying to do - which didn't quite come off - was to use timeworn phrases to create a sense of claustrophobic familiarity as a backdrop for the journey of the poem....to add your own mark to the sense of history. not an easy task. but i don't think you need to have been to a place where a poem is set to know if it's cliched! also the repetition of obscurity was deliberate, and it's kind of the point: to illustrate the dull circling of the mind, but i appreciate that it should also be good poetry! i'll see what i can do....
the verve have a song with lyrics very similar to thatI wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
where is it from?
sorry, i know i should know, i'm not much of a poet!
Desiderata, i thought this poem was miraculous. It reads like the work of a seasoned and self-assured poet, conviced of self even though at times you try not to sound it. There are charming little touches of whimsical Englishness (liar), characters and places flash briefly and then disappear, ridden past, until the poem mounts its final stanzas, and a stillness is achieved, an isolation which is to be savoured. Also, I love the way you convey the power of the smell of damp stone - a smell that unites past, present and future. A very good poem.
Camus - I think I'm starting to figure out what kind of music fan you are.
pb
Camus - I think I'm starting to figure out what kind of music fan you are.
pb
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"Mrs CJ and I avoid cliches like the plague." Strangely, I wasn't really troubled by the cliches. I assumed from verse one that they were used deliberately.
I think this is a well-sustained, long poem. In fact, it must be one of the longest so far. I like the conclusion - sort of Heart of Darkness stuff.
The anti-car theme is also right up my street. To use the US vernacular for a moment "cars suck" - especially 4WDs (USVs) driven by flatulent, couch potatoes on the school run or going to Tescos!
Get out and ride I say!
Cam
I think this is a well-sustained, long poem. In fact, it must be one of the longest so far. I like the conclusion - sort of Heart of Darkness stuff.
The anti-car theme is also right up my street. To use the US vernacular for a moment "cars suck" - especially 4WDs (USVs) driven by flatulent, couch potatoes on the school run or going to Tescos!
Get out and ride I say!
Cam
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thanks....now im really confused. to edit or not to edit? on the cycling theme, i have a song i could share with you! does this site have the facility to upload mp3s?
- alex69williams
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what about jpgs?
alex
alex
des -
Sorry bout that. Of course there was the possiblity the cliche thing was intentional - and with that many I almost just let it go and asssumed...
Ah...I'm quasi-almost-new still, and this is the first poem I've ever read by you. Many people come in here and post things bathed in cliches unintentionally, so I thought I'd speak up. I didn't have the foreknowledge to make the assumption at verse one.
The poem did create an aura of claustrophobia, though...
- Caleb
Sorry bout that. Of course there was the possiblity the cliche thing was intentional - and with that many I almost just let it go and asssumed...
Ah...I'm quasi-almost-new still, and this is the first poem I've ever read by you. Many people come in here and post things bathed in cliches unintentionally, so I thought I'd speak up. I didn't have the foreknowledge to make the assumption at verse one.
The poem did create an aura of claustrophobia, though...
- Caleb
"Don't treat your common sense like an umbrella. When you come into a room to philosophize, don't leave it outside, but bring it in with you." Wittgenstein
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hey that's cool. i don't believe in having to have foreknowledge to read poetry anyway. either you like it or you don't. intention seems pretty irrelevant because what's there is there and it's everyone's property once it leaves the pen. i might try re-writing it to see if the effect is better. im a hopelessly impatient editor though. if it doesnt work straight away ive got no time for it...
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thanks, i think you're right the poem needs work. nothing worse than a lazy poet....