Two poems by Barry Peskin
A WORLD OF WORK Where once the church bells waken man The shrill alarm does duty Where once man toiled with skilful pride Now lurks such dull monotony The slavish repitition of his Work weighed not in the satisfaction That skill does give a man But onl
A WORLD
OF WORK
Where once the church bells waken man
The shrill alarm does duty
You may also want to watch:
Where once man toiled with skilful pride
Now lurks such dull monotony
Most Read
- 1 Curious Crouch End: From Mrs Hitler to the 'The Hornsey Revolution'
- 2 Swimmers find exotic python lurking outside lido
- 3 Baked to perfection: Dunns rakes in prizes at World Bread Awards
- 4 Christmas trees and lights set for Hampstead return
- 5 'Decades of cycling infrastructure progress in just a year'
- 6 North London police officer suspended and charged with theft
- 7 'Unacceptable': Fury over Crouch End roadworks diverting W5 bus
- 8 Squares Pizzeria: Authentic Italian meets effortless elegance
- 9 Objectors fear housing plans threaten chance of Highgate pub return
- 10 Christmas at Kenwood light trail gets go-ahead
The slavish repitition of his
Work weighed not in the satisfaction
That skill does give a man
But only for the money that it brings
And at the end of a mindless day
Where once his home was full of life
Conversation and laughter,
He sits in silence, watching pictures ...
And so to bed without a thought
To call his own; no product
From his hands that he can show with pride
Where once the church bells waken man
The shrill alarm does duty
AFRICA
The small brown lips now cracked and dry
Share their mother's nipple with the flies
The claw like hands so perfect once
Clutch in hopeless thirst the shrivelled breast,
Once the lustful dream of many men.
Now the only moisture to be found is in
The mother's eyes
BARRY PESKIN
(These and other poems by Barry Peskin appear in Left To Me, his memories of a life in local politics)
