by Nathaniel Ocquaye
When I left my land,
Nothing felt right:
The expectation of a place unknown,
To which I was flown,
Where I became a foreigner.
Princes on Fleet Street!
Princesses in Spitalfields!
With loneliness for companionship
Did contemplate their return,
When I became a foreigner.
Loneliness, o dear loneliness!
‘Twas like a friend,
‘Twas like a foe,
Which did keep my eyes awake,
For the break of day!
I looked up
Into the plane-tainted skies of London
And longed for home.
I looked down
At the restless bubbling Thames
And fell in love with England.
I am a foreigner in a foreign land:
With tea and scones for my delight,
Piccadilly Circus and Oxford Street
For my amusement;
And so-and-so station,
Now leads me home –
Where I am a foreigner.
This poem was submitted as part of the LSE HE Blog’s Poetry Amnesty.
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