Troubadour: Morning in London

Morning in London is the first of a three part modern poetic story told in, well, my style of poetry. Troubadour songs where ancient Occitan songs that dealed with mainly courtly love.

Morning in London (Alba)

Green and grey gravel streets
are no more than awakening
shadows as the light of the lamps
stretch out onto the early rising dusk.
And headlights from old
Mercedes blink warily
in the frozen dawn;
Here amongst the London sea.

But the rays can't,
won't penetrate through
her bamboo shutters and
she's peeling herself
up off the floor, rubbing
her salted eyes and glancing
at the time:
Half Five.

There's a smell of cold,
stale beer sticking to her
bleach blond shoulder
length hair and the streets
haven't woken yet but
in the Kenyan mountains
the boiling coffee
in her two year old
cracked valentine mug is
already being harvested
and the flipperty flop
of silver fluffy slippers
slide up the stairs
and onto her balcony.

As if she was the Queen,
to her north the spread
of high rise concrete
tower blocks and patches
of colour in Hammersmith green;
she gazes at the morning scene,
Here amongst the London sea.

She's watching out of here.
Gazing out into the headaches
and pains of a thousand
commuters, urban dwellings
and late trains, packed
undergrounds and fruit
market venderers.

She's breathing in the smell of
fumes and trying to
remember all the details
and jigsaw pieces of what
happened in the blue light of
last night, trying to figure out
the weaving tapestries of life and
stains of adultery.
Lover. Mistress. Friend.
 
Lover. Object. Lady.
A tear drops down from her
eyes in the morning light,
She's at the end of it.
She's at the start of it.
What if she died?
She died a prostitute.

And inside the room a subtle
stiring from a pig faced man.
Like a watchman hollering from
a tower, warning her of a
jealous husband; perhaps she
is, perhaps she's married to the job.

But to the south, below and beneath
urban scrubs and sweltering mountains
is her true love, fighting the wars that
diplomats couldn't stop and peace couldn't
hold back.

She's kissing the only thing
that reminds her of him;
Her two year old valentine mug.  

Here amongst the London sea,
Here amongst the London smog.

Author's Note

The first song is an Alba, a style of poetry which is described as "the song of a lover as dawn approaches, often with a watchman warning of the approch of a lady's jealous husband"

Reviews

[C. Johnson]

I insanely love the lines of

She's kissing the only thing
that reminds her of him;
Her two year old valentine mug."

Her lips just resting on the warm mug, a naked stranger, a sense of loss not of the lover past but of character...
The imagery is very self-propelling. It almost... tumbles as it drives forward. Almost reminds me of the Beatles' lyrics to Across the Universe...

"They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe"

There is an overall blindness to this though. I'm loving this majorly.
Mind you this is just my interpretation of things.
Major kudos and send me a read request sometime.

[Lydia]

This is a great poem, I loved every lined and the way it flows together, forming a masterpiece. Just...astounding.

[---]

Amazing! Simply stunning...I loved this line, as many others have too.

"She's kissing the only thing
that reminds her of him;
Her two year old valentine mug"

You have amazing grasp of free verse, and your imagery is astounding! I can feel her longing in my stomach, the kind of longing that a thirsty person has for a bottle of water, but more intense. It makes me want to know about her past and who this valentine mug is from.

Another line that I loved was:

As if she was the Queen,
to her north the spread
of high rise concrete
tower blocks and patches
of colour in Hammersmith green;
she gazes at the morning scene,
Here amongst the London sea.

I can just feel her loneliness.

And my final example of what I loved is:

She's breathing in the smell of
fumes and trying to
remember all the details
and jigsaw pieces of what
happened in the blue light of
last night, trying to figure out
the weaving tapestries of life and
stains of adultery.
Lover. Mistress. Friend.

It's guilt and longing all tied up into one! Now this is getting to be a really long review...but I just loved this poem sooo much!!!

Great Job! This is definitely going in my library!

[KAREN BROWN]

wow reading this very over -wellming. your words put very well.i really enjoy reading what you write your blessed with such a wonderful gift to expess in so many differant ways.thank you for sharing this with me.

[stephanee]

I'm lovin' your style. I would greatly appreciate reviews from you sometime. I'm just getting started posting work here--choosing the pieces I think need work--so please bear with me. I'd be glad to receive read requests from you as well.

Things I'm lovin' about your style, btw: Excellent sense of rhythm.
"But the rays can't,
won't penetrate through
her bamboo shutters and
she's peeling herself
up off the floor, rubbing
her salted eyes and glancing
at the time:
Half Five."

Gah! Love the colon. It's not often I see this style of work.
Obviously, the standard line is that the imagery is good, but I also like that you're telling a story with this piece...giving a sense of the character, the mood, the setting. Nicely done.

[SamBug]

Wow. This was amazing. You're an awesome writer.

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

This is wonderfully descriptive and magical in its tone. A great write. Truly enthralling. Going in my favorites! Thank you for sharing your talent.
Light,
Siddartha

[Vanessa]

This is madeningly amazing.
I love England, so it won my heart from the title. But furthermore, I found certain lines simply breathtaking.
For instance the idea of the "two year old cracked valentine mug" was brilliant. I love the idea of taking such simplicity and making it stand for something. I loved that more than you can know.

The image came perfectly into my mind, and the woman's character was perfectly drawn.
In all, this was brutally beautiful. Thanks for sharing.

--Vanessa

[A LaDy NaMeD D]

*who reads the second part before the 1st??* sadly me lol. But this make everything that was a little foggy to me clearer. This is kind of bitter sweet.

Danni J