The street-with-no-name …

On the street-with-no-name

feral cats slink

stirring the dust in the heat of the day.

A cockerel crows

as the muezzins pray;

untended goats, lustrous of coat,

forage and bleat,

and the sun shines

over the nameless street ..

Anonymous windows

of tinted glass

enclose a world

that is private and still;

until embellished doors open

in the late afternoon

and the clatter and chatter of children

playing a game

break the illusion

on the street-with-no-name..

Dusk and starlight

and an orange moonrise;

fluttering fabric, kohl-rimmed eyes,

sounds of soft-sandalled feet;

neighbours are meeting

in the cool of the day.

The cockerel crows for he knows

the hours of the prayers

are the same

on the street-with-no-name … .

About atomsofstars

Reticent .. but I hope my poetry speaks for me .. Favourite quotation .. ' Uttering a word is like striking a note on the keyboard of the imagination.' Ludwig Wittgenstein
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4 Responses to The street-with-no-name …

  1. Good morning, redivive, eclectic poetess! A redivive Didacus te salutat from Londinio and says you that ‘The street-with-no-name …’, a name, they have, now:: Marya’s Victorian Suburbium…A Muezzin of East London congratulate you on ‘a cockerel crows/ as the Muezzin pray’…I compiiment you on everything…

  2. Francina says:

    great title for a superb poem. Much enjoyed ,
    Ciao, Francina

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