The idle ramblings of a Jack of some trades, Master of none

Caught sight of a brief poem by Grace Nichols on the Tube en route home yesterday. There's usually one or the other of the current crop of Poems on the Underground series put up inside unused advertising space on the trains. This one, I thought, would merit mention in my foodie blog.

Like a Beacon

In London
every now and then
I get this craving
for my mother's food
I leave art galleries
in search of plaintains
saltfish/sweet potatoes

I need this link

I need this touch
of home
swinging in my bag
like a beacon
against the cold


Shefaly said...

Oddly enough, the other day, this exaxt poem caught my eye. I don't remember if it was the Central Line or some other. :-/

Fëanor said...

Piccadilly Line for me, I think. En route home from Waiting for Godot.

Shefaly said...

You saw the Ian McKellen/ Patrick Stewart play?? Oh well. :-(

Fëanor said...

I take it you were not very satisfied with the play? I could barely stay awake.

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