My Town
The
City
of
Sydney
**

Platform Art -
People posing on platforms, provide picturesque visions to see
Study them as you travel, a delight to the eye they can be.
It requires just a short distance, to view these statuesque sights,
a trip of only one hour, will produce so many delights.
***
The south western line to the city, was when I happened to view,
a young woman on Redfern Station. Is it possible it was you?
Draped alongside a lampost, which is ornate ; of old world charm.
She complemented the style and shape. Certainly did it no harm.
A dress possibly of the forties, full length, flouncy and flared
adorned a well rounded figure. It was obvious that she cared.
Her hair fixed in a bun-type knot, but a strand allowed to curl
down one side of a fine fair cheek, her sunshade in a furl.

Further along in the shadow, against a poster, in a black frame,
was another kind of lady. She was possibly on ‘the game’.
Long leotards hugged her figure, revealing every nuance and curve,
She sure enjoyed the attention, with patience, pleasure and verve.
A tight top encompassed her torso, from neck almost to her waist,
most men cast an admiring eye. Some stumbled in their haste.
The poster depicted a movie, about a gangster and his girl.
She had been beaten, bloodied and broken. Then left in a gutter swirl.

Recall the steaming country trains. At Central no puffing now.
But a farmer in the ‘big smoke’ - with a faint whiff of a plough,
leaning against a stanchion appearing very weary and weak,
also a portrait of a gum tree trunk and a log nearby the creek.
A big hat tilts over his forehead, recently purchased and worn askew,
provides protection from the u.v. rays and certainly a better view.
Could his name be Clancy? Does his thumbnail show sign of tar?
No! computers with electronics, have proven to be better ; so far.

Screeching into Town Hall, the first in the underground,
allows us to see the business suits that scurry around their mound.
Straight ties, collars and mobile ‘phones pressed hard up to the ear,
in this noise and the babble could any vision be clear.
Tank Stream gurgles beneath, the three level Wynyard Station,
historic once but in these times it is now a distant relation.
Business suits stand motionless and calculate, what is todays range,
as the stream continues flowing beneath the Sydney Stock Exchange.

Breaking back into daylight, Sydney Harbour sails into view
and posed on Circular Quay platforms are tourists, and not just a few.
Garbed mostly in western clothing but adding to the scene
a cacophany of voices, we’re not sure what most of them mean.
Ferries, tugboats and liners are berthed at various docks
while far behind the Customs House, hear the chiming of the clocks.
The water glistening golden, late sun spears cloud that’s scatting.
Wind wavelets, foam and sailing craft with various voices chatting.

Appearing from out of the darkness, soon after the salt spray fades
are wigs and gowns bound in ‘red tape’, framed by collonades,
In an ambience european, denoted by decorative Italian tiles
are lawyers stern with their faces, mostly wreathed in smiles.
Back bench government ministers, from imposing Parliament House
are posturing on the platforms to prove they have some nous.
Saint James is the station, overlooked by Mary’s Cathederal
with buttress walls and granite steps and appearance medieval.

Again from tunnel darkness, Museum Station looms
reminiscent of old world creatures now posed in dimly lit rooms.
Academics tread these stairways and stroll across Hyde Park
Whilst lovers and some deadbeats use it’s confines after dark.

Travel the City of Sydney. Now cosmopolitan and smart.
Use train rails and carriages to seek out the Platform Art.

©. Rimeriter. Composed 2/99.
Revised 8/10.
Image separate page.