Hessle Road - a poem

Image: Giuseppe Famiani

Hessle Road

Pigeons shelter from the wind under old chimney pots 
In the lee of the gable ends, 
As grass filled gutters overflow down red bricks and swollen plaster. 

Howling from the river, the wind shoulders my car with thuggish thrusts 
And a black umbrella with legs forms a shield forcing back the unruly wind. 

A woman waits outside a cafe
In a wheel chair
Her pjs wet, she sits and smokes 
Oblivious to the rain. 

Suddenly a lady barrels down the street flung hard through grocer’s door. 
While pallet produce drips with sodden leaves 
And brushes for every occasion, mops and plastic flowers bloom in abundance. 

East meets East 

As Hull fair posters cover Polish ads. 
Exotic names for mundane things: 
Mayonez, Adazu, Buju.

Then a gentleman with hat and cane
strides out from the Turkish barber. 
He side steps bags 
to reach his Jag 
and elegantly leaves the stage. 

Yet there’s still glamour on the road
A bright palace glitter shines
Through the Monday puddle gloom, 
Its portraits framed in gold. 

It’s never mind 
It’s no cost spared: 
For the Dog House pampered pets 
Who howl amongst the splendour, 
Groomed and not yet getting wet.