Poems

I Want My Time With You
(At St. Pancras Station, London)

He put his hands
Around her waist
And said so lovingly:
“I want my time with you.”
She put her hands
On his cold cheeks,
Looking deeply into his eyes,
As if looking for some sign,
That his words are true.
The clock struck midnight
And their trains
Were about to leave
Their separate ways.
He breathed in,
She breathed out,
And finally, words
Came running from her mouth,
Just like the seconds on the clock:
“And I want my time with you.”
The clock struck midnight
One last time,
The trains rattled away
And the couple in love
Froze in time together
Holding each other
Forever.

*Inspired by the statue of the couple, “The Meeting Place”, at St. Pancras Station, London.

The Immigrant’s Words

My thoughts are all over the place,
London, you scare me so much.
People silently judge on both ends
As I tremble and make my first steps.
In UK they will say I’m an immigrant,
A dirty Eastern-European, a schemer,
Whose only wish is to steal our jobs,
A lazy millennial without a purpose,
Who will ruin our country.
In Latvia they will call me a traitor,
A weak and lazy millennial,
Who is avoiding all of her problems,
She dreams to marry a Brit
And she thinks she’s better than the rest of us.
While in the end I’m a nobody,
I have no home – not here, not there;
I just have my words that need to be heard.
I’m just looking for somebody,
Who might be willing to listen
Without judging and pointing their fingers.
London, please, be kind to me!
I don’t intend to steal from you,
I’m not here to beg or protest,
I just want you to listen,
I just want you to be the home
For my words
And that’s all.

Shiny Light

Shiny lights
Paint the London nights
In red and white,
And it makes me think of home,
My Latvian colours,
That run deep in my veins.
Noises here and there
Fill the air,
And it makes me long for silence
Back at home.
But there’s some romance
In the busy scene;
Always running and shouting,
London is living
With it’s chest turned out,
And people are so proud
To shout out loud,
That England is the best place
To get drunk off your face
And make love,
And sing, and dance,
And to dare to take a chance
For a better tomorrow,
That will arrive with the sun
And take away the sorrow.

A money spending culture
it turns you into a vulture
looking for more things
more thrills, more flings
more money to spend
it all just turns to waste –
a waste of time
a waste of money
a waste of life –
but you keep spending
Spreading these papers and coins
becoming just a meaningless point
in the story of billion others,
spenders just like you,
more sweaters, more trousers,
more drinks and food
to put in your fat belly
do you even want it
or do you just want the power
that feel of freedom
that comes with ability to afford
and do you feel sorry
for those who sleep on the streets
without a piece of bread for days?
Or perhaps you just waste
your time spending what you’ve earned?
Be smart, be kind
spend less money on shit
and more time on your soul
otherwise you’re just a prick
like anyone else.

Marta Kepite is a Latvian journalist and a passionate music lover, who likes to put her feelings into words. Will they turn out as poems or a bigger story? Not even Marta knows.