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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