Sleek and red the sixty-three
Bicycles and vans converge
Peckham’s traffic mingled in
Cacophonous proximity
The noisy vendors’ thrust and glare
Flows to the pulse of Africa
Beauty is on offer here –
False eyelashes and human hair
Scrawny chickens and breadfruit
Mobile phone accessories
The ocean’s harvest, fresh and dried
Giant yams, cassava root
Even the vegetable displays
Assault the eyes garishly
The crimson peppers shimmering
In an exotic cabaret
Affirmed in passion and blood
The dance of life confirms
In texture and continuity
That existence itself is good
And in the churches of Rye Lane
Hope is offered to the poor
Between the pound shop and Aldi
They wait for Christ to rise again
Note: in adopting this rhythm (as springy as a new mattress) I took on some of Betjeman's religiosity, although I didn't mean to, and his sentimentality. However, it's noticeable that Peckham's colour is scarlet and that it has more churches than pubs. I love the place.
They wait for Christ to rise again
Note: in adopting this rhythm (as springy as a new mattress) I took on some of Betjeman's religiosity, although I didn't mean to, and his sentimentality. However, it's noticeable that Peckham's colour is scarlet and that it has more churches than pubs. I love the place.
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