Read Poem: London Laid Bear, by Colin Ward

Face whipped by an ice
-wet
wall of wind,
squinting at the chill,
shoulders shrugged
on shrivelled spine,
shrunk against the relentless
unforgiving shadow above.

Brick archway offered
temporary respite from attack.
A rank
putrid assault
of urine stank with rotting
fatigue of flesh,
under a rumble
d, hurried world,
anxiously bridging
one worthy shelter to another,
business to leisure and back,
troubled only by mildest burdens
.
Shelter under shelter,
a bright blue tent sat hardy
on the soaking concrete,
skin flapping at autumnal
slaps, as the fellow out front,
clasped knees in dejected
patchwork of clothes,
battle
d like a rowboat
at war with Poseidon :
losing.
His eyes
bore the colour
of the sky,
which sang verse of his soul
to the jingle jangle chorus
of a tin pot at his toes,
bereft of the shrapnel
of kindness.

I averted my eyes,
embarrassed for not staying
long…