The Lamp Post on the 21st Street


The Lamp Post on the 21st Street

Braving the World, showing time the way,
Watching over them all like a Sheriff on beat.
The provenance of light in this bustling turf,
I am the Lamp Post on the 21st Street.

Countless winters, I’ve seen pass by me,
I’ve beheld this land through a well lit flame.
A thousand moons ago they set me here first,
I was similar to others, but I wasn’t the same.

Lined up in splendid array, my brothers and Me,
We guarded the nights with a twinkle in our eyes.
Forged out of the finest metals, we stood tall,
But time whithered most of us to our sad demise.

But I’ve stood through it as I saw the others fall,
Some crumbling to rust, some being uprooted out,
To make way for the future we were renounced to scrap,
Tucked away in a corner, lucky I wasn’t in progress’ route.

I’ve seen this prized land changing hands amongst kings,
I’ve seen tyranny, I’ve seen blood color my feet red.
Cries for freedom replaced by songs of incessant joy,
I’ve been the hub of festivities when the tyrants fled.

The winds of change have swept scars on my form,
The sands of time have furrowed a part of me to rust.
My quaint little lane is now the center of a Street,
This mean new city now bathes me in slime and dust.

The flame is gone, it’s replaced by bulbs instead,
The dusty paths of past are now graves under black tar.
Mortals walk past me with burden of a new bad world.
The only things lingering are memories and the night stars.

It isn’t all that bad, life yet survives around me,
Happy little street urchins play under me without fret.
Broken hearts still lean on me finding solace in my shadows.
Seeking the light of love perhaps, in my dark silhouette.

My rich, black coat, has been reduced to crumbs,
Love stories scribbled on the canvas of my trunk.
Packs of street dogs mark their territory around me.
I’m covered with banners notices and every other junk.

Once in four years when something important happens,
A few people hurry up to clean me and hide my blots.
I get cleaned, decked up with a fresh coat of black,
One day of indulgence after four tainted years of rot.

But I’ve survived so long, and will survive again,
Standing tall and watching life mill around me.
Watching the poor souls going about their chores.
Never realizing the wonderful life I’ve once seen.

Braving the World, showing time the way,
Watching over them all like a Sheriff on beat.
The provenance of light in this bustling turf,
I am the Lamp Post on the 21st Street.

-X-

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1 Comment

Filed under Nostalgia, Poetry

One response to “The Lamp Post on the 21st Street

  1. Excellent post today. I ready enjoyed it. Thanks for sharing and see you around!

    Here is a great poem to check out:

    :The Voice Inside Me

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