Long Lancashire Poems
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Context,
Boer War , South Africa
The Battle for Spion Kop
Slag van Spioenkop
Ladysmith , Natal
23 January 1900
British forces under the command
Sir Redvers Buller
Dug in to take the higher ground
on Spion Kop
In order to engage the Boer army
encircling below
Lead by General Louis Botha
The rest is written down in history, folklore and infamy
And a famous football club's stand named after it
Dedicated to it's fallen
2nd Battalion Lancashire Fusseliers
243 Dead
1250 Casualties
I write this only because,
i myself visited this hilltop graveyard paid homage and knelt before it's unkept memorial upon it
And instead of feeling what i thought
i should be the travesty, horror and
utter futility of war
And whilst leaving took 1 final glance over my shoulder at the vista and panorama only to be over come by the sheer unadulterated serenity and beauty
And i left perversely thinking what a beautiful place to die
Death has a hell of a lot to live up too
Gregg is greatly revered by his younger brother,
For his basketball shooting, skill and dexterity,
He was born Nov. 1996 in Leigh in Lancashire,
And is a 2.0 player with much junior activity.
In 2010 at Lord Taverners Nat. Junior Champs,
He was the most improved Under 15 player,
And at the GB Junior Summer Camp, amps,
He was also the most greatly improved player.
He became a part of the England North team,
In 2012, and they won Sainsbury’s School gold,
And at the Under 22 European Champs mean,
He helped to collect the bronze with his hold.
In Japan at the Kitakyushu Cup, Junior Men’s,
2014, his basketball team won the silver medal,
And in Rio they won the bronze, had gold pens:
Gregg enjoys playing drums for his twaddle.
Slaughter amongst the slag heaps
Bodies bowed over barb wire
Screeching, screaming
artillery arching above
soon to descend
amputating limbs
shattering skulls
blood and brains
splattering stains on
comrades too close
mixing with the mud
Grappling with grenades
Supplies short
London, Lancashire
and Lancaster lads
battling like beasts within
that Hohenzollern horror
hoping to hold it
Bayonets tear through torsos
Poison perfumes the air
wafting on the wind
back where it was birthed
menacing their own men
In Cite St. Auguste
citizens burrow into basements
as if Armageddon has arrived
or roam the streets like revenants
blank and bleary eyed
Their conscious mind
cannot comprehend
the malevolent madness of
what was once believed to be
a sane and civilized society
In the cemetery are set up
machine gun nests
among the monuments
As shells pound the ground
the dead are dredged up
as if to welcome the
new arrivals lying in piles
A sacred space sullied
by sadism
Schadenfreude
Flares flicker
Very Lights
to continue the fight
throughout the night
No rest for weary warriors
as no reserves arrive
to relieve them
Poor planning on the part
of generals pushing papers
and marking maps that
have no relevance to reality
ordering insanity
It has been more than
a year since Ferdinand fell
and Princip with his pistol
opened wide the gates of hell
Blue Cheese
There is Cheshire, Red Leicester, Emmental and Brie,
Double Gloucester and Edam, a delight for all to see,
Stilton, Caerphilly, or Cheddar mature and mild,
Lots of subtle flavours to drive my taste bud’s wild.
There is Lancashire, Wensleydale or Derby to please,
So why, oh’ why, would you serve me Blue Cheese?
That smelly Blue cheese you know I cannot stand,
Give me Shropshire Mild, or something rather bland.
I don’t want that stinking dairy, in my salad box,
Opening the lid to an odour of sweaty socks.
So, hear my request I am begging of you please,
No more, no more, of that smelly blue cheese.
The Man from Darwen
Came there a man from Darwen,
In the heart of the Lancashire Hills,
A Town of industrial landscape,
Coal Mines and large Cotton Mills.
These times of hardship and struggle,
Left its scars upon the folk,
Working class agents of Victoria,
Amidst black chimney stack smoke.
Luke dear Luke, please tell me,
Of your life and how you’ve been.
Speak to me beyond the Gravestone,
Narrator paint the scene.
Born and raised impoverished,
Education for you not required.
Straight down the Pit at fourteen,
There till your lungs expired.
If it wasn’t the work that got you,
Beware of Smallpox epidemic,
Thirty-two years was no life at all,
Short lives, Victorian age systemic.
Luke dear Luke, please tell me,
Of your life and how you’ve been.
Speak to me beyond the Gravestone,
Narrator paint the scene.
Processional Cobbled Street terrace,
Mill Lords housing their forces.
Fourteen people in a two-bed house,
Sparse luxury, but Workhouse far worse.
Lancashire was built on Cotton
and its Heritage stands the test of time.
My ancestors were gritty and grafter,
Working through hardship and grime.
Luke dear Luke, please tell me,
Of your life and how you’ve been.
Speak to me beyond the Gravestone,
Narrator paint the scene.
When Tom was ten he was told,
To give up swimming, outrightly,
‘Cos it would get him nowhere,
But at 12 he swam the Channel.
He has an intellectual disability,
And is in the new class of S14,
Which he embraced 14 aged,
To join the ParalympicGB team.
Commonwealths were his debut,
Glasgow 2014, Tom won bronze,
For the 200m, the freestyle event,
To make quite an entry splash.
And still in Glasgow, the Worlds,
2015, for Tom another bronze,
In the 200 metres freestyle again,
Which he did celebrate totally.
Then 2016 and the Euro Champs,
Took him onto Rio 2016 in Brazil,
Because he secured two medals,
A gold, a bronze: individual, free.
In Rio Tom hit a high silver note,
To take a second placement fair,
In the men’s 100 metres freestyle,
With a time of 1:56:58 minutes.
He comes from Rawtenstall town,
Which is in hilly Lancashire county,
In the furnished Rossendale Valley,
And has set three British records.
54.79 secs for the 100m freestyle,
1.57.27 mins for freestyle 200m,
And in the 200 individual medley,
2.15.65 minutes: all UK records.
Where I was Born
by Bob Moore (c) 2017
I am a product of where I was born
long ago on a cold winter’s morn
my father and mother are part of me,
and their loving faces, I still can see
The sky was often dark and grey,
but that could never stop our play
we’d be outside in rain and snow,
play football, or any game you know
Lancashire my county, of hills and dales,
I’d ramble the Pennines, and camp in Wales
Manchester the city, was home to me
and Gorton the suburb, where I would run free
With Belle Vue Speedway, and Circus too
this was the life, that we all knew
it’s where we thought we’d spend our life
have a job, and children, and find a wife
My school, my friends, not far from home
never thought one day, we would roam
across the world, to another land
on a ship where we were treated grand
To a place of sunshine, and sandy shores
look out Australia, here come the Moore’s
we’ll make our fortune, then leave for home
and never again will we have to roam
But years went by, and we stayed here
got used to the sun, and the ice cold beer
became an Aussie, the certificate says
but kept many of my English ways
At least that’s what my friends will say
and even my family, think that way
but they understand, with pride it is worn
this being a product, of where I was born
My name is Zariyia Bradshaw;
I am a princess, a Daughter of the Most High God;
His child a little girl;
Surname: Bradshaw;
Distinguished;
Child of promised Little Daughter of God;
Old English name from century Lancashire-Yorkshire and Derbyshire;
From form of Old English meaning Brad (broad) sceaga thicket;
My name is Zariyia Bradshaw;
Bradshaw call a surname, generations old;
Inherited from one's parents;
Whereby children are given their father's family name;
American names are traditionally patrilineal,
First name Zariyia, meaning she’s lit, a light;
Shines on in the dawn, ever so bright;
Daughter of God;
My name is Zariyia Bradshaw;
I am a daughter of the Most High, y’all;
Zariyia Sunrise, sunshine;
Heralding a fresh start;
Zariyia a rose, Arabic, Hebrew, Nigerian word name meaning also “flower”;
God has helped empower Zariyia in Hebrew a princess daughter;
A blossoming flower vibrant spiritual name chosen for beauty and power;
Beauty and light a scattering wind;
I am a child of Daughter of the King;
My name is Zariyia Bradshaw;
I am beauty-I am light-I am a scattering wind;
I am sunrise/sunshine- a flower
I am dawn ever so bright
I am a glowing light
Distinguished;
I am a princess, a Daughter of the Most High God;
A little girl empowered
Surname Bradshaw;
My name is Zariyia Bradshaw;
I am a daughter of the Most High, y’all;
5/20/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©