Eccles

Eccles

Deary meary oh so dreary

Shit on pram wheels

Smeary smeary.

.

Junked block

Cracked slab

Bleak look

Look drab

.

No heart

Man made

Hard edge

Get paid.

.

Litter litter in the gutter

Rain and wind

Watch it flutter.

.

Dead beat

Too rough

Ground down

Feel rough.

.

Bunk school

Carry knife

No hope

Sold life.

.

Feely feely oh so dreamy

Hold me, love me.

Steamy steamy.

.

Caught out

Child mum

Cut short

No fun

.

No work

No hope

Small neck

Thick rope.

.

Beery beery feeling leary

Beat the system

No not nearly

.

Shaved head

Ferret eyes

Avoid gaze

Very wise

.

Junked slab

Cracked block

Bleak look

Stop.

.

(An edited version of this poem was published in ‘Textyle Issue 1’. This version was written to be performed so there is a change of meter.  What do you think?)

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2 Responses to “Eccles”

  1. I think that for rhymed poetry, this is amazingly wonderful.

    I could picture everything, and was ‘hearing’ it in my head. Well done.

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