Thursday, 1 October 2015
LAMPLIGHT … Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet
A row of lamps border the Strand.
They stand erect and tall and grand
and stately – from an era past
whilst round them cold winds whip and blast;
young trees caress them with their fronds -
try to entrap them with their bonds.
Pole dancing trees with sinuous sway
they dip and lean most every way
sometimes with leaves they make jazz hands
waving to folks who walk the Strand.
Sometimes erotically they embrace
those rigid lamp-posts, such disgrace,
they have no shame, they flaunt their stuff
though sometimes they run out of puff.
And sometimes when they are in bloom
one sees a softer side. The moon
resplendent in her velvet blue
shows us another side of yew.
And one often sees birds there, perch
not on a light pole – but a birch.