Creative Corner: Rush Hour Rhythm and Blues

Lauren's poem takes us on an adventure through the everyday buzz of city life!

Saxophone sirens in dissonant symphony

with horn blare of hurtling hornet blur taxi cabs,

streets speckled with spectators

come to watch the world burn

in the embers of their cigarette butts.



stand alone, still,

aside from the lurch in your stomach

at each fresh cacophony and jostle

from sultry sulphur infused life, nameless bodies that scurry past.


Tap tap tap of toes upon those cigarette butts

crushed into curb corners,

flares sparking whilst smog shrouds

dishevelled buildings, ripped up posters flailing like flags

proclaiming an Atlantis amongst the ruins,

stale yesterdays wrapped in chip fat grease

and smashed bottle shards carving lost lovers

into your bleeding heart, abandoned hopes

of a better life.


Where is that you go to?

Wherever makes you feel less alone,

less dead within your bones.

Yet the thrill of city life only leaves you



For a moment, the city glitters

as sunlight reflects off wing mirrors and windows.

Every vehicle transfixed in standstill,

bowing to an artificial red glow.


Here the sun never sets.


Lauren Winson


Article images courtesy of Miraage.clicks ( via Flickr.
Image use licence here.

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