Tag Archives: poerty from Bootle

Let Her Breathe, I Beg Of You.

Over my shoulder and barely registering

the rolling news of football updates

and possible giant killing acts

without mercy, I read

your poem and I feel the kick

in the guts, the relentless

cry of foul and the whistle

of finger typed agony

as your blood lays invisible

in my palms.

Let her breathe I urge inwardly,

let her feel this emotion

and all around me is silent,

the publican’s wife sweeps the table clean,

my untouched tea now fast evaporating,

draining,

Five Rivers.

I probably will not ever return

to the place where five rivers meet

and that may mean I will not see your face

again, other than through the odd text,

or family updated picture, or should you travel

north to see me; when your life is complex

and comfortable, why would you waste time

leaving the valley in which we once roamed.

 

The rivers roll on with majesty

and I have sat by many a bank,

the tumble down grass, tumbled down upon

I Sing Your Anthem With Pride.

There is a chill, a feeling of the super-natural

when I hear your anthem being sang by the citizens

of the flag, resplendent in red and white, the colours

of victories past and battle hardened men,

of women, proud, noble and strong, perhaps by design

the strongest of them all, but the ones with rose-like cheekbones

standing to attention when something humorous happens,

the ones for whom the tears fall silently as justice is done.

 

The first stirrings of your anthem were audible on a Wednesday night