L. B. Mek

London’s, scarlet seasons

 

Come Winter we besiege thee, save us

from this furnace Summer’s, inflamed streets

as it melts: our heart’s - decimated, wax sculptures.

Despairing faces, facing-up to Autumn’s entrapments

of austerity cuts: from our elected, wilful ignorance

penning stagnant - future’s, of our City’s kids.

Sunny skies twinkle bright on crimson, Nurturers tears

their knife crime mourning, exploited

for cheap # bulletins: curating

a mislead generation’s absent, Spring

their worth, depicted as mere scarecrows

of touch screen - voices...

 

 

© L. B. Mek

December 2019

 

Comments6

  • Teddy.15

    Do damn powerful, having been born and bred in the streets of South London, I so appreciate this magnificent realistic piece of poetry, a few years ago I was watching from afar yet horrified of the youth battle with knives, I see so much in here as I always do but because I too have a passion for young people and showing that even in the most dire of surcamstances there can always be hope I applaud this poem with sincere applause and Kudos on your last lines. Very clever to use the seasons L.B Bravo.

    • L. B. Mek

      Right? that year was so suffocating to experience
      as witness, to such levels of ineptitude
      from the people we rely upon the most...
      as-ever your empathy, allows you to see
      so much more in my humble scribbles,
      May you be repaid tenfold, for all the support
      you choose to inject, into my poetic journey.
      I shall never forget or take your kindness
      for granted.
      and so humbly, sincerely: I thank you
      my friend

    • Marie

      A very powerfully inked Masterpiece from your poetic pen, dear L. B. I love how you use Mother Nature's seasons to depict horrifying events on the streets of London. It is similar in Ireland now, the drug culture has taken over here, even in the small and beautiful town I have lived in all my life, and where the residents now live in fear. Such a sad reflection on our youth today. Unlike dear Teddy, I am not as optimistic and I don't hold out much hope for a future built on the young people today because they seem to have no hope themselves except to live in an unknown world to most of us. So many young people have lost their lives through the use of drugs, but those who follow in their footsteps don't ever seem to learn. A very poignant, skillful write, dear L.B. but it is also a wake up call for those who are in charge to do something to help young people before it is too late. Thank you for sharing this prestigious, distinctive write, dear Poet. Appreciation with gratitude...

      • L. B. Mek

        so sad, I always have such a warm image of Ireland
        and with the improved economy
        I was hoping things were getting better, although
        I was alarmed when I heard
        the second most popular language was Polish
        and not Irish, so I guess - in a way
        that's a symptom of the underlying issues..
        still, my very first best friend was called John
        and he was Irish, and to this day
        I have never come across someone from Ireland
        (not even necessarily, Irish)
        that I've not manged, to get along with.
        anyway
        thank you for your insightful and nuanced comment
        I personally think having hope, in future generation's
        isn't so much a choice, but
        a responsibility, because
        if we give up on them, who else do they have?
        but that's not to say
        I don't understand your valid points, completely!

        • Marie

          Thank you for your wonderful comment on my comment, L. B. You make very valid points which I am grateful for. Have a very lovely day filled with moments of great joy, dear friend... Bless you always, dear poet...

        • Sibo

          Gentle prayer
          Feels so softly
          Like a sunset in a rain

          Thank you so much for such well- felting beauty!)

          • L. B. Mek

            'Gentle'
            was definitely what I felt
            that whole situation needed
            to oppose the heightened, inflamed
            raw emotionality..
            thank you, for picking up on that element
            of my humble scribble, and highlighting it
            in your wonderfully encouraging comment,
            its appreciated, more than you can imagine

          • aDarkerMind

            oh my!!!!
            a talent far beyond the norm;

            • L. B. Mek

              you sure know how to make a humble wannabe
              feel like, he may one day
              become someone worthy, of such generous words
              my friend
              thank you! sincerely

            • Robert Haigh

              My eldest son and family used to live in South London, and it can be a scary place to be at night, especially if you are alone. They relocated to Bristol, mainly for work opportunities - that may sound strange, but it is true. Ironically, he has since found himself commuting to London for some of his work activity. Any big city can be menacing after dark. Your poem makes the reader stop and think! The future looks bleak, in some ways, but hope is not quite dead yet. Yes, a thought-provoking poem!

              • L. B. Mek

                every place, has its 'shadowy corners'
                its just a fact of life,
                we could turn any corner in the world,
                and unknowingly
                find ourselves, face to face: with ill-fate...
                but, its the failings of those we entrust
                and: 'Pay'
                to keep us, as safe as possible
                that really disappoints..
                (thanks for the detailed comment, my friend
                Bristol is a nice place, definitely a good compromise
                if you want to move away from the city life
                but not move, too far
                and find yourself immersed
                in that countryside, type of life)

              • Neville

                Oh' how I do hanker for those halcyon days of steam when if there was ever a riff then each would be encouraged to don a pair of gloves and slug it out outside the school gates or on the rec .. When kidney punches, head buts, biting. kneeing and elbows were frowned upon and would lead to disqualification .. When a bloody nose and a black eye or two would be worn like campaign medals and determine the winner ... Knives were for whittling, cutting string and a million other legitimate daily chores .. Sadly, those days are long gone and unlikely to return .... Even sadder the fact that your poem today paints the grimmest picture of an increasingly accurate state of affairs that frightens me shitless .. so much so that I have stopped carrying my old pocket knife that has been a trusty friend for more years than I can remember ... and was my fathers friend before me ... Yes indeed, you reference London, but sadly those scarlet and crimson stained sidewalks are an all too familiar sight right across the country and even beyond .... Well done Mek .. rant over N

                • L. B. Mek

                  'and was my fathers friend before me'..
                  these words of yours
                  I will print and save, for if-ever
                  that time comes
                  I need reminding, that I too - once
                  scribbled something, worthy of being titled Poetry...
                  'hyeong', I thank you!
                  rant on!



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