Beneath my sunken eyes,
And restless nights,
I see that town:
Milton Keynes.
There must be something deep
About those streets
For such a town
Within my dreams.
Is it the chartered roads
That cull its soul
And make the town
Feel so serene?
Or are the concrete flats
And plastic grass
What kills the town
So woefully?
At night I hear the song
Of what it's lost
And then the town
Begins to bleed.
And if I listen close
I hear the folk
Of all the town
Call out to me.
They tell me what it cost
To grow the rot
And rob the town
Of sympathy.
So when they sing at night
I do not cry
About the town
Of Milton Keynes.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of Darragh Palmer
ŞiirPoems written by myself. There is no linked theme, although many of them are dark in nature, and there is no update schedule. When I write a poem I'm proud of, I shall put it in here. I write a lot about Ireland and England.
