Friday, February 12, 2010

Then again, how many articles can you actually read about Sneinton? (Seven, I bet.) (Friday's Sunday's Poem, 43)

In the spirit of Ezra Pound's Metro Station (which would make a good TV show, right?) come two poems today which deal with a similar experience:
Thoughts in a 'bus shelter at Ruddington
by Barbara Buttery

I'm a poet of little fame.
(You, surely, know my name!)
I've written quite a lot of verse
Which people tell me could be worse
At least, that's what I claim!

Thoughts whilst travelling on a 'bus in Clifton at 3.30pm
by Barbara Buttery

What's happened to Farnborough?
It's not the school I knew
Then the pupils all wore brown
Now they're dressed in blue


Barbara Buttery calls herself The Bard of Sneinton, a town name I suspected came from Dr. Seuss. But I looked into it, and it turns out that Sneinton is a suburb of Nottingham, and, like everything does, it has its own website. And it also has a windmill of some sort that shows up in pretty much every article you read about Sneinton:

Update: You know what I just noticed, after posting this? English people put an apostrophe in front of bus. Like this: 'bus. I like it -- it makes the bus seem jaunty. But why is that, English people? Something to do with King George? It always comes back to him, doesn't it? That and crumpets.

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