Flotsam on a tear-fed stream
we course through Caroline Street.
A red river, inhabited
not by salmon or trout
but miniature dragons
on sorrowing men
and silent boys.

No longer banked
by beer, breasts
or beckoning ladies,
Caroline Street
harbours fish,
chips
and donna kebabs.

The brewery's Well,
once liquid gold,
lies motionless,
redundant,
its life source plugged.
Cranes, diggers, hard hats
regenerate
Caroline Street,
smarten it up.

On pours this human river,
head down,
voice dulled,
past builders' mess
and gay King's Cross
to the estuary of
Hayes Bridge Road.

It flows into a wider sea
flotillad here by
women in black.
Black suits, bright smiles
and sparkling eyes
they promenade,
bear cargoes bagged
in fabulous ports
called Habitat
and Howells.

Who won the game
This blustery day
In Autumn's sea born City?
An enemy's sails of navy
or of white
or green or blue?

No!

In triumph
and with joyful smiles,
wives, girl-friends, partners,
bear multi- coloured shopping
proudly into harbour
or raise logo covered spinnakers
for home.

© Jillian Grey - 2005

Feedback from competition judge:

"The famous one, the most written-about street in the whole of the city gets another take and, yes, it's worth reading. What is it about chips and booze that keep us vicariously looking on? More music - 'No longer banked by beer, breasts or beckoning ladies...." I remember it like that. It's a river, Jillian has it, despite resurfacing and big brewery change, still the same." Peter Finch, Academi