Yorkshire Poems - Poems about Yorkshire

Speed

Somewhere on the North York Moor
Pedal almost through the floor
Engine soon began to roar
Eighty miles per hour for sure
Death comes quick on the A64...

Yorkshire Sunset

million birds fly in
to high cliffs of yorkshire dale
puffins fish mouthfuls


placed 5th in the contest

A Rain Note From Yorkshire

Rainfall from the heavens

Flashing lights on the horizon

Tapping drops from the skies on frilly rooftops

Whooshing splashes on leafy greens

Pit-a-pat...pit-a-pat...!, rhythmic sounds on rusty metals.

 

Grey sky with thin silver linings

Stretching abreast its surface with thundering blasts

Wavery but gentle on the earth

Deep letterings on sandy soils

Drenching flows on tree trunks.

 

Soothing and surreal, the chills feel

On

Rain - West Yorkshire

rainclouds overhead
    natures elixir for life 
    mankinds saving grace

Hessle East Yorkshire

Nothing happened
In Hessle yesterday.
The same nothing
Happened again today.
On a cosmic scale 
It’s the type of spot
Where nothing happens
Happens quite a lot.

Just down the road
Not far away
Nothing happens 
Every single day.

It’s locked in time 
It’s locked in space
It really is a most
Pleasant place.
I’ve deliberately left
That place unnamed
In the hope it long
Remains unchanged

Yorkshire Spring Day

Late afternoon sunshine streaming
Through the swaying green net  
Of this years growth of hedge 
I’ve not got round to cutting yet.
Got to get my finger out 
Because I know it’s best 
To get it done and dusted 
Before the birds start to nest.

The grass has had its first trim
It’s looking lush and green
The garden’s

Yorkshire Red

They called me a Communist
When only just a teen
Nothing much has changed in  
Those  Sixty years in between.
My village once had fourteen farms
Now it’s just got one or two 
Those employed in the village 
Are now very far and few.
It’s commuter land these days
Almost deserted on weekdays 
An almost soulless place
With modern village

Saturday Night, Yorkshire, 1960

Walking through the village jingling coins
Anticipation rising, slight tingling in the loins
Catch the bus to Hornsea for the weekly dance,
Where if we’re lucky we might stand a chance
Of experiencing a pair of soft female breasts
Press lightly and gently up against our chests.
A lovely heady sensation that just can’t last.
I’m sure they make the music end

Kirby Grindalythe, Yorkshire

Mr David Oglesby, my esteemed friend, 
Almost brought these rambling to an end
Kirby Grindalythe was his suggestion
Causing a temporary mental congestion.

Its only real claim to fame,
The Norse origin of the name,
Which the years have changed, so,
For a bated breath waiting nation
Kirby Grindalythe roughly means
In it’s modern day translation, 
Village with church on the slope 
Of

A Yorkshire Tale

Yorkshire, 1914
I patch mended her copper saucepan,
Edged an axe, two cleavers and a knife.
I did all the jobs that were required.
By this comely young farmer’s wife.
She served me a platter of rare beef
With chunks of home baked bread,
And along each large slice of meat 
Relish of horseradish was spread.

She served me there in her kitchen
Sat

Little Bit of Yorkshire

Ey-up uncle Ken,
I bet tha goin, bookies Agen!
I'll go with thee,
If it's or rate.
I go that way,
To see mi mate.
Wats tha backin, in two thirty?
Mi gran ses put a Bob,
On flirtin girty.
Gonna play Togger on park,
Then go woods,
Before it's dark.
Get sum cheggies for afta tea,
If tha calls in Lata
Will save sum for thee.
See thee lata,
Hope

Peanut Yorkshire Terrier

My Favorite Animal
A Dog
Yorkshire Terrier 
My Dog Peanut 

A standard Yorkie over sixteen pounds, 
Long silky ash coat with beautiful brown 
Blond mane. Fast, energetic, never down 
Especially if there squirrels around. 

Gentle and playful; friendly yet spunky; 
Always wants to play. Loves loud squeaky toys, 
Newspapers, cardboard one of his mixed joys. 
A purse

Yorkshire Rose

My Yorkshire rose... 
You start a war in my southern soul

Bitter Yorkshire Rain

The table feels like it did before
Under my hands the wooden fibres go from cold to very warm

The house feels colder tonight but now we are both here
The same two people who invested everything they had right here

Now I have listened to what you had to say
I see our picture begin to fade

I listen intently

Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding

Pub in Yorkshire with stout and ale aplenty. 
Red faces sweating with alcohol's influence. 
Singing fine songs in reverie and ecstasy. 
Salivating at arrival of that succulent essence. 

Tender juicy slices of beef covered with gravy. 
A splendour when touched by crispy bubbling pudding. 
Roast potatoes smiling that wicked grin for tongue's activity. 
Forks and

• Short Yorkshire Poems
• Famous Yorkshire Poems
• Best Yorkshire Poems
• Read Yorkshire Poems
• Long Yorkshire Poems
• Yorkshire Quotes