GREYHOUNDS

GREYHOUNDS

Its so Manhattan somehow.

The girl in the thick hose
with the chick lit and latte.

Comfortable on this concourse
she could be waiting for
a Greyhound to take her
out of this dark city
to wherever her sun is shining.

At day's end though
The Oggy Boys all gobshite
and dodgy designs remind us
this is oh so very England.

Tony Noon

THE MEN ON THE TRAIN

The men on the train

hurtle daily towards

temple grey mornings.

Hearts hidden

behind cell block

stripes they discuss

the whether and whose

wives they are with .

Swinging in sympathy

like eggs on strings

they hope that

no sudden jolt

will expose

their hollow natures.

Tony Noon

Don't Put Off Till Tomorrow ...

AUTUMN IN THE NORTH

The railway lines are browner than ever this year

and where they still melt steel, cold air

masks productivity in shades of grey.

Below me by the portakabin an executive swaps

his suit for shorts and is soon running.

Running hell for leather from the superhighway.

Chasing the ghost of a seventies screenplay.

Tony Noon

Great British Bake Off ... The Story Unfolds

NEW ENGLAND IN THE FALL

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NEW ENGLAND IN THE FALL

The cities are cooling;

debuilding themselves

as the year ripens.

Soon there will be

no towers,

no reliable terraces

cluttered with chat.

Soon there will be

no love

lost in scrap metal valleys;

no room at boarded inns.

Mirrors will be darkened

or destroyed and the ashes

of brown furniture will be

scattered at boot fairs.

Already, where pie crust

promises fell to earth,

rewritten lines have

broken through.

Cajoling us to start again from here.

Tony Noon