Poetry [ongoing]

Sweepings of the Street (Shakespearean sonnet)

[This is based on my most recent novel, Sweepings of the Street, set in industrial London in 1816. November 2019]

Sweepings of the Street

Behold, a city tainted by despair:

A dirty river splits the land in twain

White steeples and black smokestacks pierce the air,

The stars are hidden by the smoke and rain. 

Within the wasted walls of alleyways

A man leans on a crutch; a child cries;

A girl totes water through the twisted maze

As for the golden fields of home she sighs. 

And far above this godforsaken land

A child, clad in rags and with no name

Upon the blackened rooftop's edge does stand:

The ashes of a soul destroyed by flame. 

O, pray you, spare a thought however fleet

For these poor souls, the sweepings of the street.