Yorkshire Poems - Poems about Yorkshire

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......

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million birds fly in to high cliffs of yorkshire dale puffins fish mouthfuls placed 5th in the contest...

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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...

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rainclouds overhead natures elixir for life mankinds saving grace...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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

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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...

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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...

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