Sampson
11-11-2009, 02:02 PM
I kicked this little verse under my breath whilst walking back from work; I had stopped for a coffee and found myself reading some J.G. Ballard, which got me feeling rather liberal with my language... Nothing special, but it's a nice little winter poem I thought.
***
cinnamon and cigar smoke
ensnare my senses
smells settling heavy
like fog over a town
in the process of closing down
for the cold november night time
and i can't help but
write rhymes in my mind
as i find beauty in the
twinkling orange and
white lights and the
youthful deep blue night sky
hanging around the
high street like i did
when i was fifteen
watching seasons changing
but tonight it's not so hazy
there's beauty in the lazy
nature of the backwards place
***
cinnamon and cigar smoke
ensnare my senses
smells settling heavy
like fog over a town
in the process of closing down
for the cold november night time
and i can't help but
write rhymes in my mind
as i find beauty in the
twinkling orange and
white lights and the
youthful deep blue night sky
hanging around the
high street like i did
when i was fifteen
watching seasons changing
but tonight it's not so hazy
there's beauty in the lazy
nature of the backwards place