The Press

The Press

A Poem by Andrew John
"

Memories of when I was in newspapers

"
When it’s in motion its
deafening clatter will
mesmerise you if you
stand still and listen; but
when it is silent
the great room seems to sigh.

And in the yard the vans prepare
to course through a city’s anatomy,
deliver to every capillary
nutritional gossip and rumours of wars.

___

Note: Benefits from being read aloud, or heard in the head.

© 2022 Andrew John


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Added on March 11, 2022
Last Updated on March 11, 2022
Tags: printing, newspapers, rhythm

Author

Andrew John
Andrew John

Carmarthen, Wales, United Kingdom



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A Poem by Andrew John