River Moskva, slinking through the city like a sleeping python, Now unfrozen and quiet, the energy seeps from within. What lies beneath the surface is eerie yet serene As the Moscovites pass in their cars. Majestic in the distance, like a row of army generals Stand the battered Soviet flats of old times – Still inhabited, yet still weary from time. Dotted around the skyline like drops of imperfection, Various factories and chimneys continuously secrete Polluted smoke into the already contaminated atmosphere. Like everlasting fires, the smoke continues to rise and Merge with the smog-filled sky. Barely visible within this industrial view lies a lone light – The gleaming gold encrusted onion domes of a church, Shining when the sunlight pierces the covering smog. There it sits, surrounded by drab buildings and busy veins, Honourable and noble, like a miniature king, seated Among his lesser subjects. There is no green, save for the colour of trains or bridges – The flora remains a dusty brown even at the beginning of Spring. A brown-tinted park appears with a monument remembering Better times, or remembering those who had the worst times. From up here, everything is visible, from the band of haze That floats above the city like a ring of Saturn, or maybe Waiting to fall to cover the ground. From up here, the broken down car looks like a toy, and The confused man is just Lego. From up here, you notice the new skyscrapers being built to Reach the sky, and maybe they will. From up here, you see that this city never stops moving – It is a constant flow, be it smoke, cars or buildings. Never stop. From up here, you can see the scars of a forgotten city. From up here, you can see the beginnings of a new one.
Hope you like it. This doesn’t mean that my internet has allowed me to access Blogger yet – there are still a lot of internet issues I have to sort out. Wrote this poem today, and I have access to a good computer, so I thought I would post it!