This is basically the first draft of a poem of an experience I found rather spooky but I feel I've lost my way with it. Happy for any suggestions, criticisms or just rip it apart if you've had a bad day and need to get rid of some frustration.
We cut clockwise onto the orbital
Swinging onto the empty expressway
Staring into the road’s empty zoom
The tarmac unwinding as if from a spool
Cutting between anonymous tower blocks
That formed a concrete canyon
Upping a gear, we began to cruise
Through the dawn mist of Tokyo
This is how films begin, setting the scene
‘Sazumi san, is my husband’
A sad eyed man twice her age
Crowned with a cloud of white hair
Who held her portrait up to the light
His soft voice cracking in the silent gallery
As though the burden of the years, ached his bones
His demeanour cowed like a beaten man
Under a weight of memories
‘I can’t remember loving him’
The car hummed effortlessly
Through the stark social realism of the suburbs
The tiny houses merging in the tar dark shadows
A restless sea of resignation
Groaned and yawned in the strengthening sun
She raised her hand to shield her eyes
To see is to feel and be filled with regret
The despairing years of his overwhelming love
The guilt of having nothing to return
‘He’s still waving me goodbye.’
Her kimono had been tied too loose
Exposing the delicate profile of her breast
As my pencil skipped across the page
Defeated in its efforts to capture her beauty
It produced the charm of a wide eyed child
Her wet brown eyes unfocused on the shadows
That spread like spilt ink across the floor
‘You’ve drawn my daughter!’
Her face transfigured in the dying light
Shedding twenty years or more
And a fresh faced smile surfaced
As if seeping through a mask of gauze
To glow bright as a paper lantern
Lighting the threshold of a desolate door
‘I knew she would like to meet you.’
We eased left and down the slip road
And pushed through a labyrinth of hugging streets
Large wooden eaves blotting out the sky
Giving way to an avenue of lilac trees
Leading to the stark timbers of a Japanese gate
From where we walked along an overgrown path
To a garden of jagged stones stuck up like teeth
We cut clockwise onto the orbital
Swinging onto the empty expressway
Staring into the road’s empty zoom
The tarmac unwinding as if from a spool
Cutting between anonymous tower blocks
That formed a concrete canyon
Upping a gear, we began to cruise
Through the dawn mist of Tokyo
This is how films begin, setting the scene
‘Sazumi san, is my husband’
A sad eyed man twice her age
Crowned with a cloud of white hair
Who held her portrait up to the light
His soft voice cracking in the silent gallery
As though the burden of the years, ached his bones
His demeanour cowed like a beaten man
Under a weight of memories
‘I can’t remember loving him’
The car hummed effortlessly
Through the stark social realism of the suburbs
The tiny houses merging in the tar dark shadows
A restless sea of resignation
Groaned and yawned in the strengthening sun
She raised her hand to shield her eyes
To see is to feel and be filled with regret
The despairing years of his overwhelming love
The guilt of having nothing to return
‘He’s still waving me goodbye.’
Her kimono had been tied too loose
Exposing the delicate profile of her breast
As my pencil skipped across the page
Defeated in its efforts to capture her beauty
It produced the charm of a wide eyed child
Her wet brown eyes unfocused on the shadows
That spread like spilt ink across the floor
‘You’ve drawn my daughter!’
Her face transfigured in the dying light
Shedding twenty years or more
And a fresh faced smile surfaced
As if seeping through a mask of gauze
To glow bright as a paper lantern
Lighting the threshold of a desolate door
‘I knew she would like to meet you.’
We eased left and down the slip road
And pushed through a labyrinth of hugging streets
Large wooden eaves blotting out the sky
Giving way to an avenue of lilac trees
Leading to the stark timbers of a Japanese gate
From where we walked along an overgrown path
To a garden of jagged stones stuck up like teeth
