Ode to Batman’s Hill

By Tim Martin - Batman’s Hill resident

Happy new year all. With life still not returned to normal there is not much happening around and about. 

Everything is still very quiet although I’m hoping that life will start returning to our streets over the next couple of months. 

In view of the current state of affairs I thought for this month’s column I would therefore try my hand at entertainment by way of some pretty melodramatic, second rate, slightly rambling and hopefully mildly amusing poetry (except for the first four lines), hence:

ODE TO BATMAN’S HILL (with apologies to John Keats)

My heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk.

Wait, wait, ‘tis not hemlock I feel

But a hungry longing for better things.

I miss my velvet comfort in Batman’s Hill

Where I am nurtured and my soul sings

I dream of cobbled streets lined with green.

Of a cool river, brown and slowly running.

Of thoughtful towers where architects preen

And plan their next drab shopfront with cunning.

‘Tis not yet one hour since I left my home,

Closed my door with a whispered farewell,

Boarded the 48 to the concrete and stone,

Where now I hear the plaintive St Paul’s bells.

The chimes, the chimes.

They fill my mind.

I feel a thrill.

I turn. I run.

Destination Batman’s Hill.

I will not stop until I’m done.

Queen, King, Spencer, station.

Landmarks pass, I notice not.

I have eyes for only my destination;

Batman’s Hill, that magic spot

Where a cool libation awaits my parched lips

In the bars, cafes and restaurants that also serve chips!

Those now hazy crowded times are still sought after;

When the restaurants spilled their contents to the street.

Warm breezes wafting whispers of crowded laughter.

When the old days do return it will be sweet.

In the meantime we live, love, work and cherish,

Hibernating in Docklands; our fulsome home.

But could this be all? Nothing more? Like this we perish?

I think not. We wait. The good times will return to our pleasuredome.

So I roam the streets. Resident, proud

Of quiet beauty in Batman’s Hill.

I’ll never leave again I’ve vowed.

This pleasuredome provides my fill.

With amenities many and crowds though now few,

I’m a Batman’s Hill boy through and through •