A tear in his heart, zigzagging on his own two feet, he combed through his emotions, back and forth, up and down, he was apprehensive but hopeful. A silver lining, A thread to keep him bound. Pray.
The hands that cut and sewed this fabric tell a story of a life left behind, a story of new beginnings. The hands that have gifted me this tell a story of growing up in the 60s and 70s, a chapter yet to be written; a hope to one day visit the fatherland. Then there is me, I. A story of a move across the pennines sculpting out a new home. And then there is them, a story of siblings, of two brothers bobbin through 'toddler-hood', weaving through the lives of people and places, ironed in, quilted. A story in the unfolding.
The seams held together, hemmed in memories, a web of stories that blend, woven through faith, gathered in prayer, entwined knots; A family fabric
Categories:
pennines, faith, family,
Form: Free verse
Pennine Chain
by Bob Moore © 2021
I’ve camped in the hills of the Pennine Chain
in the cold, and the snow, and the pouring rain
and if I was young I would do it again
but the days of my youth are behind me
Beyond Hayfield, at Kinder Scout
each weekend I would be, out and about
tramping and camping, and seeing the sights
free as the birds all around me.
Follow the road, the Pennine Way
built by the Romans, back in the day
Climb the downfall, and Jacobs Ladder
enjoy all the peace travels with me
Now back home to reality, the week is new
money to earn, and work to do
back to my life, and daily toil
with friends and family around me.
Bob Moore.
Categories:
pennines, youth,
Form: Rhyme
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.
Categories:
pennines, dark, death, sad,
Form: Rhyme
I must dream by a mountain
and knell by the bells
cliche after cliche
is my calling
From Gibraltar to the Pennines
I see the lemmings meet their master
But the fireside grows dim
the crows come home to roost
Playing a deadly Violin Concerto
by the ghost riders byeway
As a single tree props the World
Categories:
pennines, allusion,
Form: Free verse
I breathe as softly as a little bird
Like the robin did in Arnside Wood
Quick yet calm, who for some food would dare.
The view from Arnside Knot is broad and fair
The atmosphere is pure, we see trains chug
The Estuary of the Kent will never bore
Further South the Lune runs like old tears
Morecambe Bay endangers, how it floods
Behind the Pennines rise, the edges fierce
Dent is ancient, mobile phones won’t dare
To penetrate the music of its blood
Nor bring their tones to hurt the mad March hare
Hutton Roof , cathedral, how we stared
A gentle hand caressed my heart to good
Meek flowers grew in the cracks as safe,as pure
How my heart expands and I am glad
For mourning heals and I am no more sad
I breath as softly as a little bird
I tiptoe on the path the peace is sha
Categories:
pennines, deep, nature,
Form: Rhyme
Pennine Ramble
by Bob Moore © 2019
I have rambled through the Pennines, on a lovely summer’s day
to Kinder Scout and Bleaklow , and Scafell not far away
We’d start our hike at Hayfied and head for the Kinder Road
past the Kinder Reservoir, into the Pennine Hills we strode
With Jacobs Ladder and the downfall, and other sights between
with views into the distance, where Manchester could be seen
At the Snake Inn we would stop for lunch, a glass or two felt right
then back out on the Snake Pass Road to find a field to camp the night
We’d ask the farmer was it OK, to stay in the field out there
he said “it’s alright wit’ me,, if the cows don’t care”
A few more hills to climb next day, then time to head for home
down in to Glossop, and catch a train, until next time we roam
Categories:
pennines, farm,
Form: Rhyme
Jimmy misses the hikes with his dad
Going to the Pennines, Lake District and Wales
Exploring old quarries and mines
Finding wartime plane wrecks
Marvelling at man built reservoirs and dams
Risking life and limb climbing vertical peaks
Going to see cliffs at St Bees and Robin Hood’s Bay
Collecting varied rock samples from hikes
Enjoying the natural world in varied settings
Jimmy and his dad did this thru the 70s and 80s
Timeless memories that he remembers now
And carries on the hiking and exploring
His dad instilled in him decades ago
CC 191 2020
JIMMY BOOM SEMTEX
Categories:
pennines, family, father son, nature,
Form: Blank verse
by Bob Moore © 2019
>>>>
Oh England bloody England, a land 0f Poms and rain
Oh I wish that I could be, back in my England once again
To see my friends and family, and the neighbours I knew well
go rambling o’er the Pennines, walk the moorland, and the fell
Oh England bloody England, though many things have changed
since the day I left you far behind, all those years we’ve been estranged
I think I would still know you, and be happy once again
to see the English countryside, and walk down an English Lane
To see the house where I grew up, see my old school again
remember things, both good and bad, the happiness and pain
to ride our bikes in Manchester’s rain, like days of long ago
play football on the old red rec, with friends I used to know
Oh England bloody England, I never will forget
the good times all those years ago, with family, friends, and yet
My life has been a happy one, in this land across the sea
and I know I never will regret, what my parents did for me.
>>>>
Categories:
pennines, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme