Urban Springtime

Urban Springtime


Petals and broken glass

Line the festal way.

Accidental emeralds gleam

Amid silken pink blossom

Trodden underfoot,

Sodden and sad:

Softness and sharpness

Mingling in the fallen trash.

Ten green bottles

Smashed against my wall,

Ten green bottles

Didn’t accidentally fall.

Drifts of pink petals

Candyfloss coloured

                   Blow lazily in hot wind

Drying to nothingness

In a few days, gone.

Some rubbish I can live with.


4 thoughts on “Urban Springtime

  1. I haven’t come across a more realistic sketch of the urban springtime.

    Mercury often tells us about life in the mountains – away from the hustle n bustle of city-life. I’ve never been to the mountains but the picture she paints makes me feel like I were living on a garbage heap. This can be quite interesting for a dog provided she’s free to rummage through. Unfortunately that’s not the case with me – I converted to being a society dog long back.

    I guess even candyfloss and broken bits of colored glass are acceptable in spring, if you are free to check them out. If you aren’t, the most beautiful of springs could bring you nothing but cause pain in your heart.

    mmm…but if the trade-off is between a life of comfort but limited freedom, and death – what would we choose – I wonder?

    Licks n wags,


    • I’m not sure either Oorvi but some days I think I’d choose death.
      I’ve lived in towns, I’ve lived in cities and I’ve lived in villages miles from anywhere. I’d take the miles from anywhere places first over any city and almost any town. When we lived in the tiny village in Norfolk, we could hear the wind in the wheat at the bottom of the garden at night, and hear the barnowls hunting and smell the dew on the grass in the morning. I miss it.


  2. when my niece and nephew arrived here the first time they asked if was safe to walk on the grass.
    they knew it was okay to walk through garbage and dodge glass but what was that green stuff in the yard?

    they had been living in China.


    • This one was written the first spring after we moved from a very rural area to a more urban one; it was still a village but a bigger one with social problems that the hierarchy didn’t seem to believe in until we sent them photos of the Scout Hut near our house, vandalised beyond belief and then they conceded our problems with trespassers and vandals might require some action…


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