Commuter Poem

In his house in leafy Edgware,
In his bedroom warm and dark,
At the sound of his alarm clock
Drowsily awakens Mark.

To the bathroom, tired, he trudges,
Following the old routine.
Listerine and Colgate Total
Keep his gnashers fresh and clean.

Early start for early meeting,
Business suit for business man,
Crunchy toast and crunchy Frosties
In his kitchen, open-plan.

Marching out through Penshurst Gardens,
Grandiose behold him stride,
Lloyds and Abbey, Greggs and Nando’s
Passing by on either side.

To the tube he then descends and
Joins the wild, amorphous form
Jostling for a private corner
In a carriage dark and warm.

Thirteen stops from Edgware Station
To his work he daily goes.
As the tube pulls into Hendon
Mark permits his eyes to close.

Camden Town, King’s Cross St Pancras,
Angel, Old Street, Moorgate, Bank.
Dozing still, he snores discreetly,
Shoulders slumped, expression blank.

Borough, Stockwell, Clapham, Tooting,
Southward spans the Northern Line.
Terminates the train at Morden
As he wakes at ten past nine.


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4 Responses to “Commuter Poem”

  1. Cross Eyed Pianist Says:

    Your hommage à Betjeman? Wonderful stuff, Gareth.

    Btw, this you must see

  2. Gareth Says:

    Thank you very much! I’m glad it’s recognisable as a Betjeman take-off.

    The badgermin is most impressive. I’ve always loved the theremin, but I don’t think anyone can appreciate just how difficult it must be to play until they witness it. Clara Rockmore is the master (mistress):

  3. Ann Burgess Says:

    Wonderful, Ga.

    The funny thing is I heard it to Dring’s Business Girls as I read it through for the first time.

    You’ve written a lovely song!

  4. Gareth Says:

    Thank you, mother.

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