top of page
Search
Writer's pictureIssue 1: Dear Suburbia

Poems by James Robertson

Updated: May 19, 2020

Usual Walk

no clouds

in the sky

air

no diesel

hard taste to tongue

sun-drenched

leaves

glare

shot off

stark naked asphalt

lone pitbull

prowls

wag

collar-less

defecates a footpath

barren roads stretch

out

no diesel

driving to

the sky

The Play That Goes Wrong

how could a play

go more wrong than

this

flame blazing velvet

curtain burnt to a

crisp

juliet a snotty wretch

coughs on romeo's

kiss

flood in the stalls

sorry show they will

miss

a play could not

go wrong more than

this


1666 - 2020

fire, fire,

pour on water!

peasants, make sure you

pack all your goods

but Pepys, sir, they are

treading on each other

fire, fire,

pour on water!

black air flicks the timbers

run, with all that you have

thatched roofs meet hot anger

your homes are ashen soot

fire, fire,

pour on water!

London’s burning, Karta’s burning!

mothers, grab your joey

the walls, the breaching trees

are caving in, a whirlwind

sweeps flame a’furious

fire, fire

pour on water!

stinging air in the eye storks

outrun, you cannot though

no flight in the fired sky

let them shelter in your burrow

fire, fire

pour on water!

lend your home to any peasant

stuff them in to every crevice

mind the dung pile and push

past the oak wood cupboard

wombat, wombat

you will burn bright


The Call: A Fire

000

my home is on fire

door handle

sizzled

roof is caving in

the smog

has clogged

my lungs

cooked up

a roasted roo

flame streaks

line the streets

it could be you at home

too


@james_robertson42

80 views0 comments

Comments


bottom of page