Monday, August 6, 2012
MORE FROM 'POETRY NORTH EAST'
THE WAY TO ALSTON
On top of the Pennines, the way turns wild;
The bracken breaks through the grassed hillside,
And the road falls like a dancing girl
Flinging her hair and swinging
Down to Staward Pele
To tunnel in trees of quiet secrecy
And ghosts of hidden animals.
And up onto the drizzled fells
Where rivulets scar the barren mounds,
The road twists childlike to the valley's side
Dependent, searching support.
But Alston's mountains reach the sky:
Of their force and stature.
Stone walls tumble like brocken shackles:
These hills are bondage free
And of unshakeable identity.
Like Wellsian Martian War-machines
The cranes occupy Newcastle,
Dribbling buildings ugly as money
Across this reluctantly human town.
I'm surrounded by brick.
Not a green stick visible.
Brick, with its autumn-tint
Like a faded print.
How like an immigrant
My green exuberance;
Though summer's pungency
Wafts strong as mint.