On a disused city church

11 Jun

Victorian brick, stained-black red

bell tower looming, an empty head

eyes plucked out by pigeon-rats

that nest now under roofing slats.


Scuttle below: the dusty church mice

squeaking in the heavy holy silence

that hangs in empty church chest cavity

under Gothic ribs, grey stone-wrought canopy.


Back in the tower under thief-sought lead

the heavy bells dangle in the head

they sit there beshitten, never knell

and peer out across the urban hell,


and see there, massing in Sunday best

hoodies, the people, traipsing towards the west

Tesco-wards they throng and tread

in search of their discount weekly bread.

2 Responses to “On a disused city church”

  1. Sharmishtha Basu at 3:26 pm #

    fabulous poem. you inspired me to write a poem 🙂

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