High Street Blues: by Pete Marshall

High Street Blues

By Pete Marshall

A lonely man upon a bench

with rolls that spilled from out each side

he must have been, what - 60 plus?

but high street blues had passed him by.

And shouts were heard from teenage gangs

who jostled chips and KFC

whilst girls would egg and push them on

then tease them with virginity.

Some kids would laugh by sequined dolls

in stockinged thighs and see through tops,

and next door folk would come and go

with bucket grub from burger shops.

Beneath the bridge the busker sang

where once the pigeons played their games

as mothers pushed their laden prams

and passed his cap of measly gain.

The rows of shops no longer seen

for coffee bars and fast food dreams

and Bank’s & Cash for precious things,

or pawn that sits where hope has been.

A family pushed and rushed on past

in clothes that once would fit them proud,

where goods are bought too quick and cheap

but never last beyond the sales.

Around the square that marks the end

A man would preach of Lord & God

His voice would sell a damning world

yet, troubled souls would laugh & mock.

And boards were placed on shattered glass

where fights had spilled the night before

when high street blues would come alive

to late night drinks and booze fuelled wars.

***********

I was walking down my local high street this weekend and my mind drifted to how things had changed, even in my life time...heck they have an Ann Summers shop next door to a KFC!

This is my poem for One Shot Wednesday, hosted this week by Adam Dustus. A great platform to share your work, opens at 10pm UK time