London Poem by Frank Avon
London
The streets of the city
where he walked
(for walking was his workshop
and sights, his reward)
were dingy and stinky,
crepuscular and crowded,
interrupted occasionally
by green squares and
monumental edifices,
angels in trees
or the prophet Ezekiel
but his eyes saw
what his eyes saw
(eidetic imagery) :
houses of gold,
pavements of silver,
gates ornamented
with precious gems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/1/2024 1:06:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
