Speccie: In The City
 

Speccie No. 2602: In the city
You are invited to submit a poem in praise of urban living (16 lines maximum). Entries to ‘Competition 2602’ by 25 June or email lucy@spectator.co.uk.

So it's Thursday and it's the new Speccie. In 'The Road Not Taken', Sam Gwynn, Jim Hayes and Martin Parker were the commended Spherians. I won some money. Who's the greatest?

Hell, does NOBODY want to dip in a toe? Here's what I think is a false start. There's also a poem by Sophie Hannah about the awfulness of places without proper shops. I'll post it when I find it.

Excerpted Diary of a Country Mouse:
Woken at sparrow fart by squawking birds
And bellowing beasts, I putter from the house
Scattering slop and slime and feral turds.

Can't have you pottering about on your own John;

In The City

In parts of town we see young ladies swan;
the way they dress you’d think they’d nothing on,
and we provide facilities for thugs--
alleyways that beckon unsuspecting mugs.

For color, we’ve no flowers in a bed--
but three eyes winking amber, green and red,
each day we shelter from the sun by taking
the Underground for hours as dawn is breaking.

We have much privacy; with streets so wide
we don't know who--what’s-- on the other side.
On Sundays you can slump back on the pillow
not bothered by some wren, thrush or tit-willow.

To our high-rise apartment no one calls,
but we can talk with neighbors through the walls.
Yes, urban life has benefits--man designed--
and when you really look that's all you find.



Needs work, but it's a start.

ON HARTFORD’S LANES

On Hartford’s lanes you’ll see a bum
with a cart, a pigeon peck a crumb
(oblivious to the siren-blare),
or a canine sniff the dusty air
or pee on a chrysanthemum.

Stroll by a grocer’s, pine for a plumb,
poke and stroke it with your thumb,
hop on the bus and pay your fare
on Hartford’s lanes.

You’ll come to the park where you can strum
your old guitar or play your drum,
long as the sparrows do not care.
They likely won’t, for they prepare
all winter for the springtime-thrum
on Hartford’s lanes.

WHAT FIDO LIKES ABOUT THE CITY

The pavement’s good for wearing down my nails
**when every day my master
**walks round with me. I’m faster
than he is when we’re on the mountain trails,

but love to follow him around the city.
**Maples and oaks abound
**on which to mark. The sound
of bird and siren blending isn’t pretty,

yet I’m a pro at blocking out the tones
**that make my master tense.
**At home there is no fence,
so I sneak out to search for chicken bones.

While cruising down the city streets, wind blows
**such zillions of smells
**through the window, each one tells
me roads were plainly put here for my nose.

Dear Country Mouse, I can’t deny,
though dangers lurk at every hand,
I’d rather risk them all than die
of boredom in the hinterland.

No home-grown food? I have my pick
of gourmet shop and restaurant!
Milk from the cow? Don’t make me sick!
I’ll take my latte and croissant!

Though cats prowl every alleyway,
And traps are set in every house,
Give me the city any day!
Come visit soon. Yours, City Mouse.


guess I stole your country mouse idea, John. sorry...

Marion, do you want my initial quatrain? You are welcome to it since I couldn't make it go anywhere. Here's what I finally came up with. Is Pernod quite the drink I want? Is it sophisticated? Is there another drink that would fit? I quite like the Byronic rhyme in line 6, but if anyone can improve the couplet, please feel free with you suggestions. Tunbridge Wells, though actually a town, and a very nice one too, is supposedly the epitome of bourgeois suburbia.


In Praise of Urban Living

I hate the environs
Of cattle and crops.
My favourite sirens
Are cafes and shops.

My hunting ‘n stalking
Persona quite lacks ease.
I deprecate walking.
I like taking taxis.

I lounge in a turban
In high class hotels
With Pernod or Bourbon.
I love traffic smells.

I’m never suburban.
I hate Tunbridge Wells.
I’m totally urban.
I’m lost somewhere else.

My money's on Marion!

Thanks, Wendy. Don't bet too much however. Though I've been doing what I consider some of my best work, I haven't had much success in this competition.

I always think of Beatrix Potter's version, the beautifully illustrated Johnny Townmouse. But Googling the story, my memory was jarred into recalling it was originally an Aesop's fable. I can relate to it, having grown up as a city mouse, and finding myself more and more a country mouse wannabe these days.


http://wiredforbooks.org/kids/Town-M...mages/jt00.gif

Heheh. This thread is jumping. John, I'm into your "false start"--L4 is hilarious--especially "feral turds" . . .