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Dreadnought [song version]
Dreadnought
We crossed the Chantry Bridge
As the Calder boiled beneath
And a drifting, chilling mist
Hung heavy on the heath
We came from far and wide
Marching all together
To gather at Belle Vue
Despite the dank, inclement weather
There were grandfathers and fathers
There were mothers, daughters, sons
Hand in hand in heavy coats
As bitter cold caresse...
Sunday 6th October 2024 1:30 pm
Citizens
Citizens
The Bakers, the Millers, the watchmakers.
The clerics, the priests and the reeves.
The plougher of fields and the sower of seeds.
The bankers, the scoundrels, the thieves.
The farmers, the tailors, the shopkeepers.
The woman who sits home and weaves.
The godless, the hypocrites and sinners.
The bishop who prays and believes.
The innkeepers, drunks and ...
Tuesday 2nd April 2024 9:37 am
Mostly Welsh
I grew up in Wales
Around the Swansea docks
I walked beneath huge cargo ships
Held up with props and blocks
I was made in Wales
Around the southern ports
I watched the big ships dock
My family guessed my thoughts
I was mined in Wales
Near valleys black with slag
And closing pits and picket lines
With many a mine lodge flag
I was forged in Wales
...Tuesday 20th February 2018 1:49 pm
The Voice of a Quill, Now Silent
I am but the mottled bark
of a tree once firmly rooted,
peeled from its stately trunk
and within my hollow carapace
echoes an inert drumbeat
that keeps the cadence for
a march of ornate trappings
soon and sooner still, one day
this crepuscular orphelin song
resonant in its languid longing
shall surge with the rising tide
the sound of its condescencion
as i...
Sunday 25th November 2012 2:54 pm
In the Footsteps...
In the footsteps of our fathers
we took the restoration trail
through wooded hill and wetland
from Aspull through to Haigh
sucked up the coldness
of a late winter sun
reflected on
the stillness of it all
each sunken dead tree scrum
on mirrored flash
no whispering grass
all secrets to the grave
and in the distance stark reminder
...
Sunday 2nd September 2012 8:16 pm
Fruits of the Narrow Seam
Close the coalhouse door, lad
There's bones inside
(Alex Glasgow)
Fruits of the Narrow Seam
frozen tears
on a mossy stone
beneath a sundial
which has swept out
one hundred and thirty seven
years' worth of days
since they were
carved
at Christmastide
When time stopped
and a mother wept
while in ignorance and vel...
Sunday 15th May 2011 11:12 pm
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