Through My Window Through the window of my own eyes, I saw what I’d hoped to see by sitting in the library, a recognised place for all things literary. As I sat in the impressive Victorian building, my window that was most personal and cherished, allowed me to observe the obvious things. But it also [...]
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Telegraph hill park, I sit at the top of the hill and the view is probably the best in Lewisham, I have an almost omniscient view of my town and I see all parts of Lewisham and beyond, the city down to my home. This is my window as I sit here on this bench [...]
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A room with a sea view Look out of my window what do I see? A sea of blue forming a flotilla on the wave ready to serve and give To make Lewisham the best place to work, learn and live. Glistening, gleaming- a horizon in a row willing to go and clean up what [...]
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SEVENTY FIVE IN SE13 Sitting on a double decker bus Earwigging conversations; one must Multicultural dialect babbles along Bouncing off the floor Then onto the ceiling low Voices soft, then very loud Some on mobiles really high Echoes from side to side Through to the upper deck high Condensation frost up tiny [...]
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Rough Sleepers. I was Hungry. I was alone, On someone else’s doorstep, never my own. I slept in a doorway, as others passed by. Some make crude remarks, others kicked on the sly. Lying on the pavements, they leave me to die. Hands tight in their pockets, when I appealingly cry. I asked [...]
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From My Window (Just in Lewisham) I know I should be doing something constructive, but everyone has an addiction. I was going to say a secret addiction, but everyone in the family knows that any movement in the garden will hold my gaze. We have several birdfeeders and there’s nearly always some creature on [...]
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At the Museum I go out every day, no matter what the weather’s doing. Well, I need the exercise and it gets me out of the flat. It doesn’t take much–one block up the hill, cross over, left, all the way to the end and over that road there,London Road, they call it. It’s funny, [...]
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SNOW FALL by Maggie Smith (Forest Hill Library Writing Group) ‘Forest Hill Station,Devonshire Road.’ The familiar disembodied voice prompts her to switch off her Kindle, fumble for her specs case and gather her shopping. She struggles to keep her footing as the driver whirls round the corner. For the first time since the bus left [...]
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