Beneath gas lamps
black night skies
to eary sounds
of distant cries.
...
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you'll have to stop walking down those dark alleys and come out into the sunlight.....good poem this one! Ruthy; -)
I really love this poem, from the beguiling title to the form, to the rhyme, rhythm and effortless wordflow - and as for the atmosphere, it definitely has touches of T.S Eliot's 'Rhapsody on a Windy Night'. S :)
The words paint the picture very clear for me, a dark and dingy place of dwelling, where pain is never heard. Great!
'And pointing down austere spikes hang down' Rachel Ann Butler