London Fog

London Fog short poem

Photo by KevinLallier


In the London fog she walks like light
Light as soft as the lofty stars
Dreams are haunted Liverpool ships
Herdwick sheep bleating by Lake Windermere
She sounds the bells of destiny
Oscar Wilde with a black cane
Morose of Byron
Her arms are blue opium alleys
Her kiss the ice of a pirates treasure

I move toward her
Chills of nights silk
We will never grow old
Back to our graves we must go
Our bed is the ancient mariner
Under the North Sea lovers laugh
Wales moans like Dylan Thomas
We have raged against the night
The fog of London is my delight

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Joseph Narusiewicz

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I am a documentary film maker and I write the majority of the music for my films. I have my own band and recording and audio-video studio in my home. Much of my music is used in my films. Three of my films are in stores as Dvd's. I also am a poetI am here to meet artists, poets and other musicians as well as other Christians.
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