This bubbling hubbub of babies and boobies
This packed rack of scooters, of trikes and of buggies
Steaming hot flat-whites and freezing cold smoothies
And tapas treats, chocolate sweets, all kinds of lovelies.
Here where the roads cross, facing the old cross
Where crosswords fill time or just buoy the headline’s dross
Where pizza gets eaten by Saturday dads
Where Friday lunch mums dish the news good and sad.
This raucous in calm, our oasis of mania
Awaits you in plain sight down Beckenham high street
The pit at the back for your kids to go batty in
Entices the spectrum of lively South London in.
Who know’s where I’m going with this? Is there a need to poeticise now, so far between grand decisions? Who know’s? Anyhoo… The first Friday of September 2017 will see the return of Beck’ Beat Poetry to the excellent Beckenham. We’ll be skulking about in the local church hall – one of the rooms upstairs – and are on for just a short hour… Yet it’s still the finest open-mic poetry event in Beckenham!
Take a look down Albermarle Road on Friday 1 September and listen out for the ranting and romanticising of South East London’s wordsmith populace. We can’t sell you any beer/wine here, but recommend you take some before and during your performance. 5 min mic time for one English pound.poetry
Where are you bound cat?
Asked a horse in dulcet tones
Why ask you?
Are you interested in my goings
The cat replied.
the horse whinnied.
are too impertinent for my liking!
You – dear horse – are too ignorant for a horse.
This said, the cat rubbed it’s body about the great calves of the equine!
And you, generous feline, are too
bold for a creature of your minority.
Shall we walk?
The cat moved off,
the horse followed.
What a glorious day!
Remarked the cat as they wandered
out to rolling landscapes.
Was the horses only exclamation.
Now shall we not continue?
The cat seemed restless.
No; you are correct!
A cloud enveloped them
and the horse,
(in its giant monstrosity)
and the cat,
(in its sly minority)
The mighty sun beat down on vacant stables
Through the dark our moon glowed on nights effluent stream.