Tuesday, 5 April 2011

rampant red lion



breath before the plunge

A yellow scarf,
a hat, to beat
a grey day
about its dull ears

and this drizzle
that has latched
on to the afternoon
not to be fobbed off.

I adjust my intentions
to a 15-minute walk,
and the hot chocolate I crave
procured much nearer

at The Terminus
where trams used to catch
their breath before the plunge
again back down Silverton Street

past Fox Hall,
a crayon-on-cardboard notice
in the window to inform
that today the flag

hoisted on the flag-pole
is the flag of Normandy, France,
in the right conditions
a rampant red lion

on sunflower-yellow
background,
but in today's soft,
cold rain, any rampaging

sadly lagging. Then something
that in all fourteen years
I've lived in the neighbourhood
I've failed to notice,

a mailbox in the shape 
of a cargo ship
outside the marine surveyor's
office, the 'No Junk Mail'

on the side of it
begging the obvious
puns about junks, but 
which I don't pursue.


Kay McKenzie Cooke

6 comments:

jtwebster books said...

Great poem, Kay.
Having lived on Silverton street and in Elliot street I found it so easy to trace your steps. Hope you enjoyed the hot chocolate!

Lydia said...

Your poems are often like tours of your area for me, where a sense of place meets my imagination. This one is personally unique, however, because I live in Silverton, Oregon, USA (where it has been a rainy spring so far)!

Tim Jones said...

I love this one, Kay! Even though for, some reason, I remembered Silverton St as being in Mornington, which shows how far I have fallen from my Dunedin days...

Kay McKenzie Cooke said...

Thanks Sue! Yes that area was where I wandered.

Lydia - I love the connections made!

Tim - Thanks. It happens like that - memory is a funny thing. You need to re-visit soon.

Catherine said...

That's a sly way of "not pursuing" the pun about junks.
I'm enjoying the return of poems to your blog over the last few days.

Kay McKenzie Cooke said...

CXatherine - Thanks. Yes it was a bit sneaky of me.

Harbour

Harbour
'how this all harbours light'