Ode to a Road: A poem for the M25
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Your support makes all the difference.From Westerham to Caterham
I never got my kicks
Till I found myself at Blindley Heath
by way of Exit Six
For no artwork has the beauty
And no symphony I know
Like the shards of autumn sunlight
On a two-mile contraflow
Or the roadcone-hurling Queequegs
Dressed in luminescent green
On a tailback close to Rickmansworth
By Exit Seventeen
It roars for all eternity
It's horrid wet or dry
But the thirty-nine enquiries
Failed to find the reason why
For the dreaming gabled hamlets
Double-glazed against the noise
Close to Exit Twenty Seven
As you go to Theydon Bois
And you will not find a driver
Who can claim he's been alive
Till he's drunk deep of the liquor
That they call the Twenty Five
Martin Newell
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