poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Fatal Journey

Always go Express Bus.
Snake down the motorway,
criss crossing, picks up
at faceless places, no fuss,
Widnes through Newton Le Willows,
still fields beyond low hills,
unpromising heartland slowly drifts past.
My fellow passenger thought  himself
a man apart; unique in his traveling methods.
“Out at dawn, mow the lawn, never fly.
It’s the way I take my time,
rain, hail, shine, or  threatening weather.”
-Showed him the wart sliced from  Garbo’s lover,
cat’s eye preserved in aspic and gin.
Toenail clippings from Presley’s sanctum,
faceless assassin with a smiling grin.
Teeth mark of Brando embedded in onion,
dagger that bled an arterial vein.
phial discovered in  Marilyn’s handbag
large body part found deep in a drain.-
Always stop at Nantwich,
sandwich taken with cup of tea.
When I returned he was nowhere,
driver head counted, but he could not  be seen.
-Here is the prayer book thumbed by Rasputin,
button from Hitler’s grey dressing gown.
Deep down among the folds of my suitcase,
anthrax spores, maps of innocuous towns-.

11 Feb 07

Rated 10 (10) by 1 users.
Active (1): 10
Inactive (0):

(define the words in this poem)
(216 more poems by this author)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha


do i smell cataloguing? anyway, unimportant ... (except that it adds intrigue to the poem. creative.) this is nice, either way.
 — listen

Dear Listen,

Its amazing what gets collected as we pass alomg the motorways of life.

Larry old Ford car, it don't go too far Lark
 — larrylark

The first stanza is brilliant. The sense of place is evoked so well - I had to stop and say that before I read the rest - but then found the rest is equally excellent - I just didn't expect him to disappear at the end - fantastic writing.
 — unknown

Dear Unknown

He had to disappear at that point because i had run out of ink

Larry old biro's lark
 — larrylark