The Streets of London, Poetry by Scarlet Hardy

Genre: Society, Life

The Streets of London
by Scarlet Hardy

London it is said, is the right place to be,

Everything costs a fortune and few things come free.

Old and new stand side by side,

Walkways are narrow, but some are long and wide.

From a boat upon the Thames, see bridges overhead.

Millions of traffic lights are all glowing red.

Young and old are all trying to earn their living,

Charity to others generous people are often giving.

Homeless and hungry a tatty old notice says,

This city is full of waifs and strays.

A modern day Fagin you may well meet,

Should you live, upon the lonely street.

Destitute people sleep inside cardboard homes so what is new.

Winter winds under skies of black and blue.

People come from all over this precious planet known as earth,

Each human must prove their own personal worth.

Who are the poor and where will they all go,

Where did poor people come from, we cannot know.

Rich and poor must always live side by side,

Only into the best places, will celebrities slide.

One fortunate man is rather lucky and the other is not,

Misery and suffering is indeed the true pauper’s lot.

It is such a sad state of public affairs,

Homeless children continue to sleep on bleak concrete stairs.

Grand plush offices overlook this devastating sight,

Homeless people have nowhere to go, not this morning and not tonight.

London is a place that never really sleeps,

Every second of every single day, people will roam the streets.

Traffic moves ever so pitifully slow,

There is nowhere for those toxic traffic fumes to go.

A few public buildings look ever so awesome they are grand,

Too many shades of gray are dismal and bland.

Concrete jungles are vast and some people feel isolated and lost,

How much does true quality of life, really cost.

People are rushing to get to work as they say,

This morning they will all be late again, just like yesterday.

Buckingham Palace proudly overlooks all,

Queenie’s residence does not look modern nor it is tall.

The Queen commands such a truly splendid view,

She gaily stand upon her balcony wearing red, white, and blue.

Golden gates to keep out the nasty grockles,

Observe the small man in green selling bags of cockles.

Guards are on duty they must all stand to attention,

Soldiers look busier than I could possibly mention.

Designer shops still reside in various wealthy places,

To pass on your wealth it helps if you have a few heirs and graces.

World leaders and royalty often enjoy a good party together,

The end of their latest shindig may well be never.

Wind continues to whistle through the dark winter alleys,

Everyone is rushing so no-body dallies.

The more privileged you are seen to be, the higher status you hold,

Rich people are thought to be worth, their weight in gold.

Cricket at the Oval helps pass a little spare time,

Champagne bubbly well chilled tastes quite divine.

From London you could travel anywhere you like,

Should you need to move faster, try a mountain bike.

Posh restaurants will willingly cater to your every little whim,

But if you have no money, they won’t let you in.

Fancy cars will gladly chauffer you all around and about,

A few tiresome traffic regulations people may well have to flout.

A lonesome man is silently sweeping the street,

From of his rather pitiful wage, he gets no known treat.

Roads twists and they turn as you take the odd rat run,

You cannot stop moving till your journey is done.

Fleets of buses move at five mile per hour,

They would like to move faster, but they have no power.

Crime ridden streets offer no safe haven,

See an overworked medic with his head all shaven.

Rich and poor will never unite,

While children sleep on the streets at night.

What might bridge such a human divide,

The gap between rich and poor is unjustly wide.

Do not ignore the lost or the needy

Share your fortune do not be greedy.

There for the grace of god go we,

With so many lost people how can we fail to see.

Someone’s sister or perhaps your brother

We could all end up becoming destitute one way or another.

    * * * * *

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