something beautiful

something beautiful
god is a song half-heard in the street
a yellow fog November evening
spent dipping skips for firewood –
while dragging home a kicked-in door,
floorboards and a busted bed
from somewhere down the fly-tip street
of cardboard window low-rent housing –
homes for single mums, and addicts
doing deals on shady corners
a harmonium led a choir of voices
praising an Eastern deity
I listened an eternity
(or so it seemed)
till the singing faded and
a honey silence settled 
minutes later
a cluster of unknown
bearded men in long white robes,
bobble hats, and zip-up tops,
unchained bikes from rusted railings
and ghosted into winter gloom
something beautiful
had visited my street
breathed into it
and moved on

© coolhermit 2023
UKA Editor's Pick!
Views: 533
critique and comments welcome.
Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments

You paint a great scene here, Rick. I reminded me that my great grandfather was a Major in the Salvation Army back in Victoria’s day apparently.

I like the irony of this piece


Something beautiful indeed comes this way. Beauty everywhere there is.


I awarded you fresh, dripping in dew, cherries the first time I read this, Rick. What makes it so memorable I think is the stark contrast between the protagonist’s purpose and means, and his/her recognition of… shall I call it ‘spiritual’… beauty. Whatever, a brilliant piece of work.


I felt the cold through the thin soles of my trainers… There is a magic in this, a spiritual,ecumenical droplet from paradise. It reminds me of the Ghost of Christmas Present and his cornucopia sprinkling Christmas goodwill on all he passes. Incongruous, I know… And yet; the grimy miracle works in me. One I shall read frequently,and treasure.

Last edited 2 years ago by franciman

A powerful memory mate. In the coldest darkest of places often something shines through the murk. I felt like I was there listening secretly from some dark hovel.

Flag Content