A Prayer for Bostonians

A Prayer for Bostonians

The spring sun shines,

As the finish line signs,

Visitors, compatriots,

A day of the patriots,

At 4 hours 9 and 43 seconds

A flash in the corner and noise they do beckon,

Fall down to the ground,

All muffled are sounds,

The shrieking the blood and the masses of tears,

Ran right to your help left behind all their fears,

So scared and so scarred,

For your life no regard,

But to them we do say,

No this wasn't your day,

Because together we rise,

'Cos our kindness flies high.

Poetry in Street View

Poetry in Street View

Rising up from depths far beyond,

This concrete carpet is dotted with ponds,

Arrow or circle and sometimes square,

It's time for my fingers to have an affair,

Setting off with slightly blurred vision,

To go left or right is all my decision,

In a moment the seasons do change,

This colourful map of many things strange,

Dispelling the myth about what is there,

A world of cultures seen here from your chair,

Then there's just the plain old weird,

A sight for which this must be revered,

Reminders of times gone by,

The whole planet is now nearby.

Explanation


I'm not going to write an explanation for this one. However, I do suggest that you navigate around in Street View for some time and let these words mean something to you. Here's a starting point. Here is your starting point.