Poem of the week: Thames by John Challis
‘ Thames’ charm, a magic…
Thames! Oh! The very name sounds
like a magician, like wonder working
machine in my mind, triggers a salient
norm running through whole day;
All days’ accumulation, running in its pile,
gathering of waste and sagged iron,
rusty musty wooden carves, bolts, sediments,
boats and commuters, Thames unyielding
finds a space within its space, a lure
to visitors; reveling from unfading sight
of unbounded joy, pulsating within;
Thames resurrects the past, history, hidden
mysteries, “drowned possessions”, jewels,
coins, submerged souls tied up to boats,
a belief all proved to be futile, nullified,
now the blessed hour, turn of Thames,
undogging all agile farmers, resurrectionists,
those ill-fated with suicidal tendencies;
a time for mourning for Thames, how
to surmount the chaos, Nature’s wrath
all past and recurring bow? Still finding
a space to sleep, or rest, or in its own
dream world, where is there is no space.
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