Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Cross Country

We have left the Brighton to London
Commuter line
And are travelling cross country

No longer heading for the city
The carriage is quiet, nearly empty
And outside an early frost
And watercolour sky

I spoke too soon
Into the carriage pour
A hundred school or more
School children

Why do they shout?
Why such loud conversation?
Why are their voices so shrill?
The cacophony and impatience
of the i-phone generation

Oh, where is the quiet girl, reading a book?
Where are the two boys engrossed in chess,

Where is the boy with the nervous glances
And unrequited fantasies?

3 comments:

Russell Duffy said...

And where is the lad with his orange hair? The girl with the plastic, see through coat beneath which she wears nothing but a swastika? Where is the metal head banging his brain out to ear bleeding music? Where are those horrid, hairy hippies? Where are the Mods, the Teds and the Grungers? Whatever happened to the young generation?
:)

Roger Stevens said...

Ah, Russell. They belong in your poem. So I should get writing it at once.

Wastedpapiers said...

I saw plenty of hairy hippies and mods in Brighton recently - that's obviously where they all gravitate to these days! Nice poem too BTW!