26 févr. 2012

Holes like scars

Tiens tiens... Yet another poem that I wrote a while ago, without publishing. Short and sweet, for your reading pleasure (I hope).

There are holes in my city
Big gaping holes
     in my city's history
Like scars.

There are parts missing
   in my city's history
And no one can remember
     what used to be there.

25 févr. 2012

A history of violence

Well, it's been a while. I've written a few beginnings of poems, but nothing I was particularly happy about. Not enough to post here, at least. 
Here's a new one. It could use some work, but I like where it's going, and I figured it was time I posted a new poem!

My city has a history of violence
And my city was born out of fear
   fear of invasion
       of attacks
So they built a canal
hoping this would keep them safe.
But from the canal there grew a new town
A shanty town of rough Irishmen
A Lowertown of brothels and taverns
An Uppertown of merchants and Protestants
And in this little town of Colonel By's
the riots
the drinking
the fires
Made it the most dangerous little town in North America
Lock your doors
Don't speak out
The Shiners are coming
And they're angry
And they're drunk
And they're looking for a fight.