Photo: Petr Kratochvil
I based this poem on a previous house I lived in quite a few years ago. Although I drew on my experiences there, I have used a bit of artistic licence – it was never that bad a place to live!
I live in a street of terrace houses
where there should be a great community spirit,
but there isn’t.
Mutual respect and tolerance are in shorter supply
than parking spaces.
With a pavement as a front door step,
net curtains are no defence
against prying eyes and snarling voices.
In an area where councillors fear to tread,
even the loud speakers are distant
on election days.
I always vote, but I didn’t vote for this.
X marks the spot.
Four cars mark out the football pitch,
one of them is mine.
Another dent to my pride,
I wasn’t even asked to the game.
Hordes of street kids
acting tough to their audience,
playing their starring roles to full houses.
This should be a one-way street,
but nobody pays attention.
Permanent “For Sale” signs
should read “No Way Out”.