Friday, 29 January 2016

For Colin, a poem

With North-East wind,
A broad man strides,
Though hickory docks,
Down Jarrow lines.
The pave is gold,
Soot air picks clear.
Past Wear-side reeds,
Who up and cheer.
By mounts’ t’ west -
Comrades f’ t’ fixed.
Lush locks lavish
Quixotic gifts
With oaken will,
T’ward smoky settle.
Wi’ coal-tressed feline,
In canny fettle.
Maple necked,
‘neath smile, now inked.
‘Bove lowly pitches,
Sage acorns wink.

His step ne’er swayed,
Nor flounced, nor flittered.
It swang, like us,
Souls’ stout, not bitter.
Three, four times stitched,
Us gathered cast -
With charm, not needle:
Raise life’s thin glass.
A gentle-man, allus,
Hence, now an’ afore.
Wi’ heart the size
O’ the Roker Roar.

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