Sunday, 25 April 2010

In Memory of Peckham Lido

Near where William Blake once saw a tree

of angels, there used to be a lido, now

it’s humpy, dented grass, unused, fallow

We’d hoped builders, gardeners, with roller and plough

would come, give purpose to it, flatten and sow

create a swing park or a bowling green

somewhere for people to go, relax, but no.


Once there was diving, splashing, shoving, fooling

butterfly, breast stroke and crawl, sunning, swanning

loose limbs stretching, shimmering below the blue

now, nothing - all under the wrecking ball

the tide’s gone out for good, drowning the laughter.


The demolition men have earned their quarter

no William Blake, no angels here, no water


Hylda Sims

(Hylda Sim's book of poetry, 'Reaching Peckham: a story in 40 poems', is published by Hearing Eye and is available at the Review bookshop. £.7. You can also see her singing with her skiffle group, the City Ramblers, in 1959 in Moscow. A great clip: )

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