Gas Street Basin

Bypasses and ringroads

motorbikes and cars

modern modes of transport

leave their gaping scars upon this land

so green and pleasant,

we yearn for times gone by

but gazing at the narrow-boat

I wonder if our eye has rose-tinted

our view of the water-born

workhorse, now driven for pleasure

coal-carrying forgotten as we

pursue times of leisure and joy.

The canals were our highways,

industry was fuelled by these watery

paths – fumes, dust and noise

clogging the arteries of England’s

long spine.

———–

This week on dVerse Poetics, Shanyn would like us to write about the rhythm of transport. This long weekend, I have been staying with my family who hail from what southerners in England refer to as The North. Well, I was born and brought up in the West Midlands, which is hardly The North, but we do have a lot of industrial history of which to be proud!

Apparently, my birth city of Birmingham has more canals than Venice, and they were used for commerce in support of the the Industrial Revolution. I imagine that they were dusty, noisy, smelly and very, very busy. Traffic jams of narrowboats would have been commonplace, especially in places such as Tardebigge, which has a flight of  30 locks. Taking a boat through a lock system is not to be taken lightly! These days, the canals are used for pleasure, and I think many people tend to to forget that they were the motorways of their day. So, this was my inspiration! Oh, and Gas Street Basin is where a number of canal systems meet in the centre of Birmingham – very pretty now, not so lovely back in the times when it was a working hub of the canal system.

I hope you enjoy this – please pop over to dVerse to see how my fellow poets have been inspired!

Revelation

Here, take a look at this book.

The truth lies within, we promise you

No, we can’t share who we are with you

We’ll take far more than we give to you

You’ll realise this once we’ve utilised you

We have two faces, we promise you

Here, take a look at this book.

 

jacmel-kanaval-preachers

———–

This week on dVerse Poetics, our bar-keep Anthony has asked us to respond poetically to the stunning photography of Phyllis Galembo. As Anthony tells us ‘she documents mythic figures of the spirit world within the culture of masquerade in Africa’. Out of the generous selection that she has allowed Anthony to share, I chose the image above. Since we have been given free reign to respond in any way we feel, my response should not be taken as any kind of comment on the religious beliefs of the people Phyllis has chosen to photograph – it’s just how my gut responded, mainly to the masks! I think I might have trust issues….

I hope you enjoy my offering, brief as it is, and do take the time to pop over to dVerse to see what other creative juices have created! No two will be alike, I can promise you!

Gestation

She picks the colour
of the paint
with care and deliberation,
the background must
act as the perfect foil.
The walls are not quite smooth,
the minor imperfections
are not unwanted, but reflect,
in their matt-coated manner,
that life is generally forked
with deviations from
the straight and narrow.

She strokes them all,
the tailors’ dummies,
in her mind’s eye
placing them here, then there,
in this corner, in that bay window,
eventually selecting a figure
encased in plain ticking
that reminds her of oatmeal.
She can feel the texture,
rough under her fingertips,
the mild abrasiveness
transmits a shiver
deep into her bones.

For now, this is all she needs.
A space, something to lend
a sense of scale and proportion.
Soft daylight, filtered by trees.
High ceilings.
Muted, muffled, cocooned.
Here, she will grow.
Here, she will shape her future.
Here, she will unfurl.

 

Gestation

*****

For today’s dVerse Meeting the Bar, Claudia asks for us to use metaphor to convey feelings, rather than just being direct and obvious. No sounds in here, no smells, but plenty of visuals for what’s going on with me. This is very much autobiographical. Starting afresh – here we say ‘a clean slate’. Much as I love slate, it’s not a comfortable place to lay your weary body.

I hope you enjoy my offering. I’ll link up once the pub doors have been thrust open at 3PM EST, and see if I can sneak in a sound-recording as well. Please do go and read the other poems offered up for your delight. No two will be the same, I guarantee it – all will bring you something to enjoy, which I also guarantee!