Early morning walk in the park,
Shrouded in silence,
Cloaked in the dark.
The end of the night is ushered by
Venus, our lady, alone in the sky.
She watches dark fade,
The death of the night.
The day soon reborn,
Washing shadows with light.
Wot – No Rhyme!
The Batley Poets society
Caused a sense of anxiety
When they said ‘It is time
For poems with no rhyme,
In the interests of aural variety.’
O Little Town of Batleyhem
Written for and read at the Batley Community Choir Christmas Concert 19/12/18
‘Twas the month before Christmas, and all through the town
Not a resident of Batley, was wearing a frown.
A small Yorkshire town, right proud of its past;
Where wool and its weaving meant that we grew up fast.
8th December 1868
A historic moment
A milestone in time
The issued royal charter
By Victoria’s sign
To grant this town
Of shoddy fame
The right to define
Its future aims
Not My Favourite Things
Auctions on eBay that don’t find a buyer,
Finding a nail in a nearly new tyre,
Those Facebook statuses with the word “blessed”,
These are some things that I mildly detest.
This Yorkshire Lass
by Rachel Dunn
This Yorkshire Lass is from Batley, a fact of which I’m proud
It makes me feel quite special, like I stand out from t’ crowd
It’s a shoddy town, that’s filled wi’ dark soot-covered mills
And my once young, spindly legs, ne’er cared much for its hills
Its folk are proper northern, and of the truth they ain’t afraid
They’re definitely the sort who call a spade a spade
As a bairn you could smell Foxes Biscuits, wafting through air
And a bag of broken biscuits you could get from any market stall on t’ square
On weekends I’d see me Grandma, she lived off Soothill Lane
She allus made me fat n bread and told me “not to be so vain!”
In never ending summers, we’d spend afternoons at cricket
I didn’t pay much attention, less Soothill got a wicket
In winter we’d watch snooker on t’ telly in black n white!
Or have pie n peas in t’ smallest café, by ‘eck that space were tight
Better still we’d go watch best team in t’ world – up hill at Mount
We’d stand there cold and frozen, at Ref we’d scream and shout
There ne’er seemed right much to do in me teenage years
We’d spend us time on street corners, drinking cider or beers
Suppose I started suppin’ young; it’d make a Social Worker shiver
Ah, it never did me no harm – though I can’t speak for me liver!
Hours of me mis-spent youth in the Vic at Hick
Playing songs on juke box, me money allus went too quick
Tap room filled with REAL men, downin’ pints of Tetley Bitter
No doubt their wives at ‘ome, makin’ Sunday Dinner
But those days have bin n gone and I’ve travelled far n wide
But a place as fine as Batley, well I simply cannot find
Though after all I’ve said, I should get to St Marys for confession
Cos I were born in Dewsbury, and me Mams from chuffin’ Wigan!
When We All Got Together
It started with excitement about the run
A day planned out for some sporting fun
A glass full of Pepsi, a packet of crisps
Then a plea to Twitter for some breakfast tips
A Mars bar, a Snickers and a two finger Twix
Were very quickly added to the breakfast list
We want Marathon to return again
So we initiated a referendum campaign
Engine starts for a sunny day drive
Picking up a friend before we arrive
Walking from the car park, I could feel the heat
Then looked down shockingly at my feet
OH NO! OH DEAR! I didn’t have a clue
Instead of my trainers I wore my black office shoes
Ah well, I guess, what it is it is
I maybe had a reason to give this running thing a miss
Off to registration whilst meeting friends
Then a warm-up by Kim which just wouldn’t end
We marched on the spot, then squatted down
Moved side to side and flung arms around
We shimmied our shoulders, swung our hips
I was beginning to regret that packet of crisps
It was very energetic, there is no doubt
At the end of it all I was all tired out!
And then began the race with a trot
Galloping down hills was about my lot
The uphill steps were indeed very trying
Whilst the long grass hill made me feel like flying
Conversations on route helped the kilometres pass
Along paths made freshly from folded grass
A dash to the finish through an arch of balloons
An achievement done felt over the moon
Falafels and burgers, fish ‘n chips and pies
Lunch trucks parked a pleasure to the eye
England thrashed Panama, six goals to one
As we watched from the shade of the afternoon sun
The cheers and the roars from the Oakwell crowd
Was noted in West Yorkshire as being rather loud
What a great get together, more in common as we know
When we all got together for our run for Jo.
We Can Choose
by Mark Griffin
If I understand the world one way and you understand the world another way then
WE CAN CHOOSE to understand one another. Continue reading “We Can Choose”
A Market Memory
A child I was
With mum and dad
Developing memories
Of times we had
A walk from home
An afternoon spent
A stroll past chimneys
Of biscuit scent
Internal Debate
by Tahera Mayat
I want to go to the funfair
But aren’t you a bit old?
I could go to the dodgems
Or you could dodge the fair?