Licking at crumbs

You know them well, those

tamed and well trained city pups.

The dunners and yappers

replete in pinstripe and penury;

the high polish of their John Lobbs,

scattering the pigeons

pecking at scraps.

It's like a conveyor belt,

stiff armed, shoulder bowed,

heads like nodding dogs,

coming and going in servitude,

as from the tunnel a dragon roars,

beckoning with it's open jaws.

Often, as is the city's wont, it rains, 

and the black, bobbing cloud that snaps 

to attention seems impenetrable 

when viewed from the high tables

on the thirtieth floor; though on 

careful inspection, there are gaps,

a scattering of crumbs.

Sometimes, the sun shines through;

when it does, there are those who 

glean an understanding of how a man

can enjoy the soil trapped beneath 

cracked and weathered fingernails;

how he can trace each precious little
seed to its final windblown rest. 

Mostly though, 'it's just the way it is,' 

they say, not really understanding 

the synergy between balance 

sheet and an affair of the heart. 

The thrill of each new day becoming 

lost to the limits of stagnated imagination,

in the same way as limitless possibilities

become caught in the intractable web of 

unexplored destiny.

And thus, pleasantly and presentably 

seated, almost nobody looks around.

Instead, dunning and yapping in concert,

they lap at crumbs of comfort that

fall from those higher tables; 

Time caught, as child and avarice collide 

across horizons infinitely wide;

whilst back and forth the profits stream, 

just out of reach, as in a dream.

Reviews

[h d e rushin]

My sister, who works at the local casino and has a masters degree in business administration, chose the world of cheap thrills over the morally reprehensible rat race of blind ambition. I guess, painstakingly, so many get lost in the flame blaze of trophy riches and then loose the grace and morality of ideal worth. Then they retire and die without once hugging a tree, talking to a stranger or writing a poem......beautifully written...dana

[Lorry]

I really like the perspective you have taken here, of being ablt to see those below the view of those little cogs, going about their business like they are big wheels, whilst never questioning why they were so eager to be part of the machine that praises greed and ignores the unwanted.
Great job on this piece. I feel that it will improve with each reading and show things missed first time round.

[roarke]

Beccy, I haven't been around here for a while, but I'm very happy to read your strong and poignant writing. Thoroughly enjoyable and thought provoking. Thank you.

[barleygirl]

This is a vivid looping reel of film, showing how the rat race looks & feels. Your descriptions are so interestingly unique, yet recognizable. Love the way you show the choices & payoffs & sacrifices as a necessary evil built into this seeming addiction to success. Even tho this is stated with an unrelenting harshness, there's also a note of sympathy between the lines & we end up feeling sorry for these automatons. (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Dionysian Gnostic]

Not a single strand of altruism from those dunners and yappers huh? Material greed seems to be as addictive as it is unfulfilling. This is the first poem of yours I've read and I'm already a fan.

[Einstein Noodle]

not to be read quickly ...love the title and the metaphors with crumbs and gleaning .. the view from the streets to the heights ..all clouded with fog and rain..the dreary hangs heavy ..love the empathy towards the middle class ...a struggle in any country ...love the admonition against avarice...when its added to ones ambition it destroys ...love the language .. had to look up "John Lobbs" so am comforted that i must not be a snob ;))) strong work Beccy!
E.

[Beccy]

As much a hamster wheel as a at race Norman. I go out while I was ahead and still understood the things that really mattered.

Beccy.

[Norman 223]

Born in London, worked in London, it took an enforced retirement to move to the coast away from the rat race. Here I learned to write, paint, read and enjoy the pleasure of "normality". Your poem made me realise what I once accepted accepted, but now never miss.

[Beccy]

More disillusioned I seem to recall CD. I quit the city soon afterwards, left it to the dunners and yappers, most of whom had never opened a book of poetry in their lives. :))

Beccy.

[CD Campbell]

Right. The hustlers. People can really suck it.