from my poetry blog
Slattocks Canal
The sedentary
figure of a fisherman
by the redundant waterway.
Still nothing has he caught.
Could it be he’s been out-thought
by such a tiny brained foe?
— He doesn’t think so.
Beneath the carpet
of conquering weeds,
between the barbs
of needle-reeds,
their number is smaller;
the water shallower,
and strategically placed
shopping trolleys,
half-submerged,
contribute to the clogging
of this coagulated artery.
A train thunders past,
the fisherman shifts,
night drifts in, reluctant.
©AndrewJamesMurray
Gorgeous!! But sad.
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I know what you mean.
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