Kings, Queens, Poets and Tramps

A poem about a road trip through England.

Kings, Queens, Poets and Tramps

 

 

The misty morning hangs over the Tyne Bridge as I drive across it and out of Newcastle to start my odyssey.

 

The beauty of The Lake District burns into my heart, Raindrops lay on my windscreen like pearls as my car drives into Yorkshire. I stop in Leeds for a strong brew; in York I look up into the metallic sky and see the letters S.P.Q.R. printed across the clouds. The moors glow black as I leave them behind.

 

The aroma of tripe hits me as I walk along the Mersey in Liverpool.

The beat is heard miles before you get to Manchester. It is in your blood stream, you feel the music in your soul. As I walk down the arrogant streets the sound of

The Stone Roses and Oasis is heard throughout the city.

 

 

The orange sun brakes through the clouds and shines on the cities of Chester, Nottingham, Leicester and Birmingham. The road goes on, my eyes scan the countryside, the minutes tick by and the island becomes smaller.

 

 

I hear the sound of a quill being dipped in ink as I stroll around Stratford-upon-Avon, I glide down the peaceful rivers of Cambridge, I gaze up with wonder at the spires of Oxford as ninety-nine crows fly into the lavender stained sky. The mighty cathedral stands like an old giant in the historic city of Canterbury.

 

The sounds and smells of every nationality in the world is heard and felt. I walk through my hometown, the capital, the old great city of  kings, queens, poets and tramps. I relax in Hyde Park while reading a novel by George Orwell. Led Zeppelin and The Rolling Stones echoes throughout the alleyways. I am in London.

 

 

Finally I’m at the end of my trip as I drive into mystical Cornwall. The seagulls sing an opera for me; I drink a few pints of dark ale in a very old pub. I end up sitting on a lonesome beach watching the sunset that is the colour of the Tudor rose. I can hear the music of Elgar lapping up with the waves; I place my hands into the sand and close my eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for allowing me on your road trip. I was in England many times in the late seventies being so close being station in Germany. England is a special place. A lot to see and do. I saw the birth of punk rock back in my day. Europe is a treat for the mind always. Thank you for outstanding poem.
Coyote

[?]

Oh wow, what an amazing picture you just painted with your words.
Thank you for taking me on this road trip with you. Where we going next? lol
What wonderful discriptions and imagery, enjoyed this one alot.