Reek

Gathered on the floral way within the city of dreams

Experiencing the underworld of ten thousand screams

Medieval parapets upon sculpted forestry of spires

Sprawling avenues cover ancient funeral pyres

Souls wander on the crags beneath the silent rock

Past the rooted heart and glimpse the fragrant clock

Winding through the maze of embittered cobbled streets

Foreign tongues amid the sounds of ancient beats

The crack at one erupts, shakes and rattles those unsure

To enlightened ears a sound so familiar and so pure

The common tongue of local voices drifts upon the breeze

To oasis in the concrete and once again she breathes

Daubers of new worlds and old, peddle golden wares

Spirits from the graveyard attract a multitude of stares

Where resurrected ladies and mussel sellers roamed

The travelling man mesmerises with all the skill he’s honed

New artists in their finest garb in claustrophobic alleys

Seeking inspiration in tales of feudal opulence and galleys

Tall and silent on royal ground stands one master of the tale

Sunken rooms on reeky streets the master’s words inhale

Mixing tongues and stories they welcomed all who passed

And in the tavern’s shelter forged friendships hard and fast

On footways of forgotten times they strode in awe and wonder

And in the darkness of the room Reeks spell they do fall under

© Fergus Martin

2012