A lot of my poetry reflects my love of nature, of the hills and of the sea. Mythical beasts appear, ominous or welcoming. This poem draws on a very different environment, urban and wretched, but maybe the themes aren’t that different.
It will not be all new when we meet again
The blood will still be on the old stone steps
The man at the corner will still be glancing after
The drunken girl who retches beyond the railings.
We recognise the smears, you and I
We know the use of bleach on the grimy standard
Will wreck it beyond loving, and the raising
Of a pure standard is a call to killing.
But where the stray cat wolfs the fallen burger,
Where up the bloodstained steps you come by night
There is the cancer that will grow and scatter
The knowing of the dark, the love of light.
Copyright Simon Banks 2012