Terry Ireland Poet Rhyme

Saddleworth Moor

Crossing the Pennines, rocky spine
Of the country running North South,
Following the motorway west 
From the Humber Estuary Mouth 
It always felt cloud bound whatever
The weather or the time of day
Stretching out on either side of
England’s highest  motorway.
Saddleworth Moor, place of ill fame 
It looks desolate and bare and bleak 
And I felt uneasy as I criss crossed it
Each Monday every single week .

It’s a place of pain and torture
Murder, loss and despair
The victims being young children ,
Callously buried out there .
Their graves unmarked 
On that unforgiving ground
At least one poor boy
Was never ever found.
The perpetrators taunted parents
By just refusing to tell,
Each enjoying their notoriety from
The safety of their prison cell.

Every Monday as I crossed it
I swear I felt pain and grief
And having crossed on return   
Swear I felt a sense of relief.
That already dark bleak place 
Earned a such a sinister fame.
Saddleworth Moor entered history
As a sinister  and haunted name.
In memory as I crossed over,
And I know this can’t be right,
But it never ever seemed 
To be bathed in sunlight.

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Daniel Turner March 27, 2023 at 2:49 PM Very sad but very interesting also, and easy to read. I enjoyed it. I like learning new things. Have a good evening Terry. Terry Ireland March 28, 2023 at 12:57 AM Thanks Daniel - This happened between 1961 and 63 and absolutely shocked the country. Its a very sombre place, the Moor.