1066
Sad day on Senlac Hill.
King Harald takes an arrow
Through his royal eye.
And that Norman bastard,
Duke William, steals his crown.
Though it’s embroidery,
Not tapestry, tells the tale,
He finds himself the king of all he sees.
1297
Lord Warden of the March.
His bones well-sheathed
In tightly leathered muscle,
He guards the Western shore,
Ensconced in Carlisle Castle,
And stalks the reavers’ trail
Through Cumbria.
He finds himself the king of all he sees.
1922
Mud-larking on the Thames.
A muck rake in the hands
Of a common man,
Canvassing the northern bank
‘neath the trestle near
Cannon Street Station,
Searching for everyday treasures.
He finds himself the king of all he sees.
Honor God
Written By Miracle Man
August 28, 2021
Conquering fear,
I accomplish through faith,
Environment can determine the path we travel,
and where we are, often determines, who we are.
Too many don’t acknowledge God’s greatness,
and therefore can’t discern the hour’s lateness.
No one, save God, can feel what we’re feeling.
As a conservative Christian, I’m sick at heart,
over the problems our country faces.
But I believe defeat won’t come by another,
but if we fail, it will be because,
we’ve failed to honor Him.
“Show me the man you honor,
and I will know what kind of man you are.”
Thomas Carlisle
Weighs Up The Prize!
Skips, Steps, Strides, ..., Shine!
Star's Of The Avenue's,
Belinda's Might!
_______________
Belinda Carlisle, France and The Go Goes!
There was an old man from Carlisle
Who went for a swim in the Nile.
He soon gasped with despair
When he came up for air.
He's now just a crocodile's smile.
4/ 9/ 2018.
Simon used to take part in motocross,
Before his bike stalled once mid-air,
When he was training on his farm land,
Which left him paralysed waist down.
He was born in 1982 on the 7th June,
And having fought back from that day,
In 2001 when he did dance with death,
He now races the Marathon T52/53/54.
He most often competes alongside Weir,
But worries about safety combinations,
Because safety issues can concern him,
And the Zika virus was a scare, quite big.
He lives in Maryport but trains in Carlisle,
At the Sheepmount Stadium to neatly chat,
With olympians Tom Farrell and Nick Miller,
Who he knows to be top athletes, class.
Dr Ian Thompson, Tanni Grey’s hubby,
Who trained this fantastic legendary idol,
Also trains Simon by propelling, pushing,
Him to muscle on further and further.
In 2015 he did brave to firmly complete,
The Great North Run, the half marathon,
When he won the silver in the T53 class,
And he works as a car mechanic by day.
One big boom reverberates,
we shelter 'neath the railway bridge,
the swirling wind ensures we get a soaking anyway.
The Croal is roaring well above the watermark,
the nature lover in me hopes the smaller fish
will beat the flow and seek a sheltered cranny.
Peewits squeal, and wheel through softened skies,
as sunshine makes a welcome reappearance.
Drying out, we wait for trains,
our notebooks at the ready.
A record twenty-six come through,
some chug to local destinations,
others muscle by, non-stop,
to Carlisle and the Scottish Highlands.
We eat our sandwiches in silence,
underlining names and numbers.
Clambering up the embankment
and skittering down, as gravity
grabs then releases we fall in a heap,
and can't wait to do it again!
An impromptu game of catch,
throwing stones instead of tennis balls,
our laughter uncontrollable,
we trip and stagger home.
The warp and weft, the fabric of my youth
still reassures me with these moments of enduring truth.
The big debate : “What is a city ?” –
A town created by a charter
And often with cathedral church
But sometimes with an ancient abbey.
St David's, Pembroke is the smallest,
Just twelve hundred citizens
And London is by far the largest,
Populous eight million plus.
Many sprawling conurbations
Are the backbone of our nation :
There's Leeds and London, Bath and Bristol,
Canterbury, Sheffield, Hull;
Then Cardiff, Glasgow, Edinburgh,
Norwich, Wells and Peterborough,
Oxford, Cambridge, Manchester,
Swansea, Truro, Chichester,
Worcester, Portsmouth, York and Belfast,
Carlisle, Chelmsford, Perth.
In cities there is entertainment
With cinema and theatre too,
Museum, gallery and concert hall –
A cultured way of relaxation.
A city has a green side too
With parks and gardens to explore,
Pedestrian precincts help us shop
Away from traffic noise and fumes.
I recommend a city visit,
So many secrets are in store.
Leave your car outside the ring-road,
Hop on a bus to start your tour.
One big boom reverberates,
we shelter 'neath the railway bridge,
the swirling wind ensures we get a soaking anyway.
The Croal is roaring well above the watermark,
the nature lover in me hopes the smaller fish
will beat the flow and seek a sheltered cranny.
Peewits squeal, and wheel through softened skies,
as sunshine makes a welcome reappearance.
Drying out, we wait for trains,
our notebooks at the ready.
A record twenty-six come through,
some chug to local destinations,
others muscle by, non-stop,
to Carlisle and the Scottish Highlands.
We eat our sandwiches in silence,
underlining names and numbers.
Clambering up the embankment
and skittering down, as gravity
grabs then releases we fall in a heap
and can't wait to do it again!
An impromptu game of catch,
throwing stones instead of tennis balls,
our laughter uncontrollable,
we trip and stagger home.
The warp and weft, the fabric of my youth
still reassures me with these moments of enduring truth.
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved
Author Notes
...childhood fancies
Wobbly bits , Hairy bits and dangly bits galore
So if you're feeling squeamish
Draw your curtains and lock the door
For today is the day in Yorkshire
When the naked ramblers go on tour.
They will walk beside the railway line
From Settle to Carlisle
All their bits a bouncing
For mile after mile
You are welcome to join them
but you can wear nothing but a smile .
One of the guys must have fallen in a puddle
I think his name is Jim
Some things shrink when they're in water
and you'll feel really sorry for him.
The lady garden of Hairy Mary
Really needs a trim .
One lady must be American
Well her wobbly bits have certainly gone
To the very deepest south .
She's spitting out tobacco juice
From the corner of her mouth
Her lady garden looks angry
With that mass of ginger hair
Goodness gracious , She bent over
Now that really gave me a scare.
I hope I have inspired you
So if you're feeling brave
Pop into the bathroom
and give your bits a shave
Then you can apply to join
The naked ramblers society
Don't forget to give me a wave
I'm the guy hiding behind the tree.
One big boom reverberates,
we shelter 'neath the railway bridge,
the swirling wind ensures we get a soaking anyway.
The Croal is roaring well above the watermark,
the nature lover in me hopes the smaller fish
will beat the flow and seek a sheltered cranny.
Peewits squeal, and wheel through softened skies,
as sunshine makes a welcome reappearance.
Drying out, we wait for trains,
our notebooks at the ready.
A record twenty-six come through,
some chug to local destinations,
others muscle by, non-stop,
to Carlisle and the Scottish Highlands.
We eat our sandwiches in silence,
underlining names and numbers.
Clambering up the embankment
and skittering down, as gravity
grabs then releases we fall in a heap,
and can't wait to do it again!
An impromptu game of catch,
throwing stones instead of tennis balls,
our laughter uncontrollable,
we trip and stagger home.
The warp and weft, the fabric of my youth
still reassures me with these moments of enduring truth.
One big boom reverberates,
we shelter 'neath the railway bridge,
the swirling wind ensures we get a soaking anyway.
The Croal is roaring well above the watermark,
the nature lover in me hopes the smaller fish
will beat the flow and seek a sheltered cranny.
Peewits squeal, and wheel through softened skies,
as sunshine makes a welcome reappearance.
Drying out, we wait for trains,
our notebooks at the ready.
A record twenty-six come through,
some chug to local destinations,
others muscle by, non-stop,
to Carlisle and the Scottish Highlands.
We eat our sandwiches in silence,
underlining names and numbers.
Clambering up the embankment
and skittering down, as gravity
grabs then releases we fall in a heap,
and can't wait to do it again!
An impromptu game of catch,
throwing stones instead of tennis balls,
our laughter uncontrollable,
we trip and stagger home.
The warp and weft, the fabric of my youth
still reassures me with these moments of enduring truth.
So much love my heart contains,
Baby, you're as beautiful as the summer rain.
It's been so long since we spoke last,
It's ended before it's begun, it's already past.
Though you were never mine, you cause me so much pain,
I cry alone in the summer rain.
I ask myself, "what in the world did I do,
And what can I do to be enough for you?"
What I feel in my heart is hard to explain,
It's like dancing in the summer rain.
The pain bruises and pierces, I cannot fight,
The way I feel when you're in my sight.
You don't love me, it's plain,
But still, I wait for you in the summer rain.
Inspired by: Belinda Carlisle, Summer Rain
PASSION FOR CYCLING
Coast to coast across England in one day
A hundred miles in one trip.
Bike like a rocket each sprocket fits its socket
With well oiled smoothness of clockwork
Feels good as chain clunks from one socket to the next
And the ticking whirring of freewheel
And zipping noise of fast tires on flat ashphalt
Hum a song to me as I lean over into the bend
And the bike leans with me.
Smooth road; never mind the few bumps;
And air so fresh you could eat it in lumps.
Aroma of York’s chocolate ten miles away,
Bread-baking and brewing downwind of Carlisle
Make me ready for dinner. And the strong
Odour of fish in North Shields,
Stink of cattle feed outside Goole,
Sickly smell of plastics factory, oil newly-refined,
Makes you see even if you’re blind.
Makes me want to pedal for home.
they came from miles to meet "Carlisle"-
the feline freak who won the lotto
in all their disbelief
that such a thing could truly be
many wondered how she'd done it
let 'em wonder was her motto
and until this furry day-
it remains a mystery!
Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.
Red, Green, Yellow
Once a year ower the Cumberland show,
Livestock, ter an' fro, ter an' fro.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Gypsies, jockeys, towns’ folk alike,
Appleby 'orse-fair awwer the dyke.
Red, Green, Yellow
Scotland has i's 'aggis, Lancashire i's ho' pot,
We 'ave uz sausage an' tha' does uz lo'.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Ice-cream a' Allonby shiftin' ter Silloth on sea,
Righ' round Wes' Cumbria an' back yam fur scordy, like eh.
Red, Green, Yellow
Up a' five an' ou' a' dawn,
The 'aaf-ne' fishers, early morn, like eh.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Keswick, Caldbeck an' Seascale too,
All the visitors passin' through.
Red, Green, Yellow
There’s Por' Carlisle on the warl,
People comin' yan an' all.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.