Poetry Friday 41

Poetry Friday 41.  

Just two this week, and I think they don’t need much introduction.

For audio click here

On losing an icon.

Did our mothers shed a tear

when they tore down the dancehalls

and turned the milk bars into Wimpys?

Did our fathers fail to keep their upper lips stiff

when the old dog track

became a supermarket?

I know my sister cried

when the roller disco was boarded up

and she could roll no more.

Will our daughters lament

when the last branch of Starbucks

closes its door?

Or our sons snivel

when they break out of the escape rooms

for the very last time?

So, throw up your arms in despair

as they shut down the places

where we play.

Sing protest songs

as they replace our venues with

luxury flats and budget hotels.

Shed your tears, and shout your protests

but remember this.

‘Twas ever thus.

Severn Tunnel Junction

Severn Tunnel Junction.

Where Saint Peter stands 

to welcome you into heaven 

on earth. 

No razzmatazz, no fanfare,

not even a sign that says ‘Welcome to Wales’. 

But a feeling in my... 

where is that feeling?

In my heart? My soul? My Welshness. 

A feeling that says

Welcome home, bach. 

Thank you for tuning in. Poetry Friday will return next week.

Have a good weekend.