Cycle

Barry Fentiman Hall

 

The sound of morning
Whistles in my ears
Machine noises off
My body and the cars outside
Indistinguishable
It recalls Acomb dawns
When dragons drew breath
On far rails at the edge
Of my senses
My ride to work past
Adverts for Meat Is Murder
And the smiles of Ashfield Girls
At my streaming hair
Was a time of dreaming
My youth training scheme
Waiting to wake me
From such anticipations
I am fully woken now
Four pills down by 7am
Is how I greet
My oldest friends
That burn in my heart
And ache in my bones
I would not miss them
Not in the slighest
This is the road to admission
That those times
Will not come again
Posting pictures of wilt and weeds
To good people staring
Through the other side
Of the looking glass
Is how I pass my ride
This is a new cycle
Morrissey is not what he was
And the college gates are gone
The queen is dead boys
The queen is dead
But I am still alive
And that boy still rides
If you look deep
In my eyes, blue still
After all these years
Of sleep

Image from Pixabay

Image from Pixabay


Barry Fentiman Hall (BFH) is a writer based in the Medway region of Kent. He is primarily a poet of place and the people he finds in it. He has been published in several journals such as Anti-Heroin Chic, I Am Not A Silent Poet, and shortly Crack The Spine. His debut solo collection The Unbearable Sheerness Of Being was published by Wordsmithery in 2015. He is also the host of Roundabout Nights, Chatham’s oldest regular live lit night. He is a big fan of owls. Not to mention cats. And on a good day hares.