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Click hereNight comes in verticals: the badly-lit
cast-iron crutches of the hollow halls,
dim areas of lifelessness beyond
the dripping lampposts. Thin, insistent rain
forms shading, white across a field of cold,
grey wetness. Round the arcs the halos drip
their diamonds straight below, and down the road
reflections in the pavement double all
those lines; in here the darkness sickly shines.
This poem mentioned in New Poems Recommendations, well done.
tell us more Mr Mathew -Project 356creative- thread time baby, be careful though,
contradicting somewhat Ishtat, but this one
cold,
grey wetness.
does look like a no thought
This effectively conveys a spooky scene. I am totally stumped the title. To the point where it is distracting. As for the Mathew problem, I'd slam him for taking your poems on whatever site it is he got them in the first place.