Morpeth mopes amidst the mildewed mounds
Of coke and coal and grime hewn by hungry hands.
Derelict Silos silhouetted in a moonlit sky
Iron beasts and barren landscapes
Whilst Angel spreads her wings on hillside high.
Deep scars and seams of people slain
In Tanfield beneath the sleet and driving rain
The worlds oldest railway dilapidated in dormant sidings dies
Testament to Britain- the first industrial nation,
An epithet built on poor peoples’ lives.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
We spent Easter in the wind snow and rain, touring the North-East. This is for d’verse where we were asked to consider pilgrimage. To me this was a true pilgrimage. It was a journey I felt compelled to take. We stand on the shoulders of giants.
Share this:
I love how you are so inspired by the lives of those who built your industrial country, as they influence many of your poems. I admit I am not so keen when perceiving the past, often — erroneously — going through life as if the world started when I was born. Thank you for looking with love’s lens at those who sacrificed so much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice description in the last line: “An epithet built on poor peoples’ lives.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
A fine pilgrimage to honor the involuntary sacrifices
LikeLiked by 1 person
S powerful poem Alison. But still there is love all through it. This is my new favorite of yours.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so very much that means an awful lot. XXXX
LikeLike
A worthy pilgrimage! Those who fail to learn from history … miss half of the Bible of life.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love the way you describe it with such a passionate voice… especially the alliteration is very good.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Bjorn. XX
LikeLike
As I read your poem this morning, Alison, my husband is on his way to Grimsby. It seems to me all roads north are a pilgrimage since many of our great industrial towns and fishing ports are in decline. I love the alliterative personification of ‘Morpeth mopes amidst the mildewed mounds / Of coke and coal and grime hewn by hungry hands’ and the imagery of ‘Iron beasts and barren landscapes’. The final line sums it up well – and I love your photographs!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was a really lovely journey and whilst coming home has been fraught with obstacles and difficulties I know that I am connected.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Another terrific post. The remains of capitalism rusting away – as you say – “built on poor peoples’ lives”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. XX
LikeLike
A thoughtful, thankful pilgrimage by your recording of it…glad you shared it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the whole piece but that last line is so, so good!
LikeLiked by 1 person
150 to 200 Moving Connecting Sets of eYes
ForAging ToGeTHeR DanCinG With Nature
After Survive Chores ArE DonE FoR NoW
Thrive then comes
Next.. Language
Written
Then Storing
GRain.. No Longer
Nomad.. then sitting still
As Tools Become Human
And Love beComes Silo of Grain
For What is Holy Comes First aS
Flesh And Blood Wild Free LoVE..:)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful. XXXX All our histories. XXX
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes my FriEnd
Thanks as always
For your
Wonderful
Poetry
Of
Inspiration..:)
LikeLiked by 1 person
a pilgrimage to the age of steam that built our nation – on these bones we stand today. An ingenious take on the theme and as a sucker for alliteration loved this line especially:
“Morpeth mopes amidst the mildewed mounds”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Than you Laura. XX
LikeLike
A fitting tribute to ground made holy by the sacrifice of those that lived there!
LikeLiked by 1 person