Best Historyriver Poems


Ironbridge Shropshire

IRONBRIDGE      SHROPSHIRE

River Severn’s now  a  fishing spot.
Two centuries ago it was not.
The cradle of industrial revolution
Rocked fastest here  -  Iron construction

Arching proud  -  Telford’s   bridge was born 
Among the elder and the hawthorn.
Coal mines, furnaces, stony quarries,
Early train-tracks  - sooty glories.

Now the river sweeps silent south
From hilly birth to ending mouth.
Smoke and soot  have had to cease
River Severn  has returned to peace
…………………………………………………………..

Note:
Ironbridge is the name of a small town on the River Severn 
in  Shropshire, England.  It   derives its name from the famous Iron  Bridge, built 1779.

Jamaican Elegy For An Intellectual (Rex. R. Nettleford) Prelude

I have seen this river swell mighty
Like a woman with fetus near to come
I have seen it lift its burden heavy
Cottaless and laughing in its kingdom
        But to today is a different rainy day
        Nothing wash the brown of sorrows away
        O hear the river lament in its clay
        For its son, its only son has passed away
I have seen this river in tropic glee
Dancing down the mountain in childhood
Pushing back the angry colonial sea
O nothing could compare to its manhood
        But today is a different rainy day
        Sorrow is a hurricane in the fish pool
        Where his eloquence held lofty sway
        Our favored son, our star bright mule
O my heart too carries sorrow like a river
He was model, mentor, brother keeper
My island's best gold when love was silver
In sun or moon, or sweet translucent water
        I hear abeng wailing, jon kunno bawling
        O today is a different rainy day
        Mframadan come down your pole crawling
        Weep with us, weep with Martha Brae
Did you hear this Rex talk, or see him dance
Did you know this scholar, this special son
Did you sit in his class and dream in trance
With this son, the Shaman of the olive sun?
        O today is a different rainy day
        Today is the day of tears and broken heart
        I want to hear the drums of Martha Brae
        Weeping in Kumina where the waters part.

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