Hi all. This is the first poem I've posted on the blog and I hope you like it. It's written about the moors above Haworth in West Yorkshire.  The photo is from those very same moors.

I haven't been writing poetry for long - about sixteen months, so I hope you like it.

A Northern Love Song

I hear the wild lands,
the rough lands,
the bleak lands.
Those harsh, north wind lands
where the curlew’s cry
is swallowed up,
in the vast, empty hugeness
of the great, grey sky.

I see the heather lands,
the bog lands,
sparse grass lands.
Those barren, dry stone wall lands
where, hardy sheep
seek shelter,
from wind
and rain and sleet.

I feel those driving weather lands,
my back against the storm.
We cannot conquer these lands,
and call them all our own.
This gritty harshness
with all her iron force,
has moulded man
since time began
and forged our very form.