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Saturday 1 October 2016

Ivy Street (Greenacre) (61 of 365)

Day 61 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day Eicastic meaning: "imitative"

Ivy street (Greenacre)

The cottage feel of weeds 
That subsume the stone 
And turn terracotta tiles into
Cosy homes for moss

The gentle hum of electricity
And gasoline as mowers chew through the inch thick infection
Of bright spring flowers and weeds
Poking out of front lawns and invading the streets 

Potted plants seek purchase and mooring on tender white and red bricks 
There are sedentary cars that cram
Up against each other like deck hands on an immense invisible 
Cruise liner

There are boats too they tie their moorings to the asphalt
There is the silence here of contentment and monotony 
The narrow glass windows 
Covered in a small crust of dust 
Are voyeurs to the gentle late afternoon firing of pots and kettles
And cups chink pleasantly
As heads fill with pleasant delirious wool spinning tiredness

Leather lounges accommodate and cushion 
A bird chirps here or there pottering between the vines between tall steel electricity poles
Or tall telegraph posts 

Nearby the highway carves up 
This green blooming world
There is a rebellion 
The waves of dirt and sound both ruin 
and preserve the tranquil ire 
While the grass and trees slowly crumble the gutters and crack the 
Roads 

Neon signs, Shopping trolleys
Malls and the clutter of feet 

These streets are not made for human feet they are made for slow burning wheels and the lazy stall 
Of weary tyres

Amid the shuffling life this quiet can erupt into an eicastic 
cauldron of the world, the foreign is ever simmering here 

The throng of the strange and alien
Thrives here and the bricks and its people are moored into the benevolent earth.

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