A Story of London


On a mighty river, too wide to ford,
A walled town of abundance,
Soon, however, left abandoned.
Hope is brought by commerce and expansion,
With fresh blood, flowing through her veins,
She breathes again.

A Christmas King, builds a Norman tower,
A tower for a city, a capital city.
She grows and expands, moving ever westward,
Westminster, palace of palaces.
A city within a county,
A county within many.

Disaster, as Death of Black kills a third,
Then an inferno, lays waste to the city.
From the ashes, a link is forged with the south;
A bridge, connecting the shores, more secure than ice.
Until the south did burn,
A massacre on the bridge.

Shakespeare, assassins and death; all came to her,
As the darkest plague swept the city.
The population decimated, with no sign of a cure,
Until a fire, the greatest fire,
Burning four days and four nights,
A saviour of the strangest kind.

Rebuilding begins with a masterpiece,
A monument to worship, for all time.
The largest city the world has known,
Too full, for any more?
Destitution and crime, such crime as to wonder,
Could it be stopped by Runners?

With chaos and congestion above,
Work begins beneath.
The Tunnel Rats saving the city,
With steam-powered machines.
And as the world plays in the city,
Her enemies prepare for war.

With peace, at last, the city flourishes.
Like an automaton, she works tirelessly,
Her wealth and industry, helping the Empire.
The cobbled streets, juxtaposed with concrete,
New buildings, overwhelming the old;
The Cathedral is being choked.

But, the peace is soon shattered,
As the sky darkens once again.
The great bell is silenced,
As an easterly wind brings terror.
Doodlebugs and Rockets;
Fire and Brimstone.

Yet, through it all,
Wren’s monument stands,
Defiant amongst the ruins,
A symbol, uniting the city.
As misery turns to joy,
The great bell chimes again.

Soon, she begins to heal,
From the ashes, a stronger city emerging.
But, times are hard,
The city needs help.
New blood, mixes with the city’s own lifeblood,
Eventually becoming one.

With wounds still raw,
The world revisits the city.
A new stadium for a new era,
A festival, a celebration of Britain.
Soon, overshadowed by a soup,
A smog that covers her.

Glorious harmony reigns,
Until Troubles disturb the peace.
Riots and strikes bring fear to the city,
Till a grocer’s daughter leads the way.
The city reaps the benefits,
As the boom-time begins.

From jubilation to fear, in a matter of hours,
Trains and buses, destroyed in an instant.
Is anywhere safe?
But the city responds, defiant in the face of evil.
A show of unity against tyranny,
The third visit of the world; the greatest of games.

And she continues to grow,
Ever expanding, ever-changing.
Ever adapting, but always welcoming.
My city.
The greatest city.
The Unfinished City.

The Unfinished City

The Unfinished City


4 responses to “A Story of London

    • Thank you. It was something that I had wanted to do for a while, it was just working out what to do.

      I wasn’t sure whether to write a poem or a short story, so in the end I came up with this.

      I think I will still write a story, at some point, though.


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