Walking – graffiti clamours – bang bang bang,
hydraulic hammers drive foundations in,
bolded hoardings cover yawning gaps within.
I search the patchwork sky – escape the clang…
someone’s cell phone delivers a harangue…
Nostalgia Lane, bluestone bricks beneath a bin
flowing butts and wrappers – its urban skin
a palimpsest of sturm und drang;
there, decaying ghostly recollections,
once steady hand and eye, careful balance
etched in time on painted bricks and concrete;
heritage vernacular inflections,
although faded add a playful ambience,
our ghost signs still speak graciously in streets.
Sam issued a challenge to write a Miltonian Sonnet. This is my attempt – there are more over at dVerse. Do visit because there are some fabulous examples.