Coventry In Bloom

 

 

Sometimes I pretend to be

a tourist

in my own city;

darting wide-eyed glances

at all there is to see.

 

It’s a great way 

to avoid eye contact

on densely-populated streets.

 

Sometimes I think Germany

had the right idea,

but brick by brick we

clawed our way back;

Lady Godiva spurring us on,

once again earning her notoriety

and glossy pose on all the postcards.

 

She’s not so glossy now -

stoned in the flesh,

the local youths having taken liberties

with spray paint

and permanent markers;

idling around

the base of her tribute,

spoiling romantic notions

for the happy snapping tourists.

 

So they fenced her in,

forcing all to keep their distance

[the pigeons, as always, unstoppable].

 

Miming fascination, I pass ornamental fountains

clogged with crisp packets; walls carved into history;

purposeful nature displayed prettily; leaning casually

on polished railings, I observe natives enticed

into noisy buildings advertising chemical pleasure,

blinkered to preserved architecture;

black grid beams framing white…Tudor remnants.

 

Larkin,

The Specials,

tunnelled themselves out

as fast as talent

would take them.

 

Inspiring.

 

Detouring from bus stop impatience,

along cobbled slopes, I find myself

sitting on a concrete bench

bordering kept ruins - our

souvenir of the Blitz -

surrounded by Real Tourists: coach loads

of cameras slung around journeyed necks.

They capture clock, cathedral and statue;

I hear them mutter,

“Where the hell next?”

 

Drivers herd them back to their Walkmans

and boiled sweets;

their mass hums of disappointment.

 

What did they expect?

We made an effort, at least.

 

Author's Note

This needs work - I have this cynical version, and a more friendly version; the two are now mixed, because parts of the friendly version flow better than this.
Let me know what you think of it. Thanks.

Reviews

[Gary H]

Although I have only visited Coventry once, I have to say my view echoed yours here. I don't think though that this is the only place in Britain where as a British person you would say that. I live in Crawley. The best thing about it is the fact that Crawley is close to Gatwick Airport so there's a way out.....
Liked the Specials, maybe Concrete Jungle helps sum up your vision?

The part I liked best though was

'Inspiring'.

That one line was fantastically cynical.

Really good write.

[Jaffa Forbes]

Really good. I like your style of poetry a lot. I've been to Coventry quite a few times and can feel myself back there again when reading this poem. Mixing cynicism and a more friendly viewpoint gives the poem a much more interesting tone (i imagine). Killer ending as well. Very good.
Jaff :)

[zig]

i havent read either of the other version you mention, but i like this mixture. great descriptions, ive never been to england, but you certainly express the feel of it well, provide me with mental images. have you perhaps tried writing this with longer lines? maybe keep the stanzas as they are but combine some of the limes together. just a thought. zig

[mick weller]

I'm just thinking - they would if they had the chance, but could they?
see where I'm coming from: would or could?
there again 'c' is hard; 'w' is soft

I have been one of those tourists - for very different reasons though... well maybe...
- there is something very poignant about the feel of this - it's that 'something' that is difficult to convey to the US tourist - a slow decline - national, sensed; and here, felt: described

[Maria G.]

Larkin,
The Specials,
tunnelled themselves out
as fast as talent
would take them.

I love your eye for detail and i can truely identify with the love of our city yet the cynacism is normal especially when we witness bus loads of tourists, I feel the same about japanese tourists and their obsession with the Beatles, i mean is that all there is i thinkto myself.
We have all contemplating an escape as the grass always appears greener on the other side, but as i found out myself through past experience when we run away we still take ourselves and our bullshit with us. great write.

[Narnie]

Oh I love this version.. ten times more than the other. I also live in a town where the tourists come and although there is cynacism here, in my eyes, it is because you are intimating that the pleasure is a secret one and why should your town put on special effort for grockles. Even in desolation, our home town has memories and tourists can never appreciate those. I loved this. Can't you wittle this one down for the comp? I quite fancy writing about Brighton now :)

[Bubo]

Don't know Coventry at all............but can hear you being cynical about it!


Larkin,
The Specials,
tunnelled themselves out
as fast as talent
would take them.

Inspiring.

How many of us don't seek escape from where we
are thinking somewhere else is better!!
Loved your perfect imagary and the flow worked
well...................

Drivers herd them back to their walkmans
and boiled sweets;
their mass hums of disappointment.

What did they expect?

Fab ending!!!

[Nastassja]

It's not very often that I don't find anything wrong with a poem.

Maybe I should have read it again. :)

Good work.

[Wulfstan Crumble]

Hey, the cynical version is much better than the normal one. lol.

Possible typos:

hut brick by brick - But, brick by brick.
he clawed our way back; - We clawed our way back.

But, you havent mentioned Coventry City FC yet...