Harsh wind screaming
moaning
with the crisp bite of Autumn night

Dark shadows dancing
tossing
with the branches of bare grey Elms

The lanes are winding
uncurling
in the pale orange glow of headlights

Sudden hedgerows
green
edging the limits of the night

Power-cut darkness all around
silhouettes
strange in the headlight beam

No farm lights distant on the Tor
guiding
beacons of open field and place

Cottages shuddering their thatching
thrilled
chimneys smoking message-morse

Pub signs banging wildly
flapping
in a crazy dance
inside candles flickering
distorted
patterns in tiny panes of rounded glass

Old stone steeple steady
dull toned bell
catching
a ride on the wind to the copse

And still the lanes thread out
beam-born
a ribbon of pebbles and stone
stretching into the night
until they melt
into the flat black tarmac
of the motorway.

Come up north to see the great outdoors
Rolling hills
Scenes leaving you wanting more
Never mind the weather
Whether its rain or shine
Grab a pint
Sit down
And enjoy our way of life

Born and bred northern boy
But no flat cap or corduroys
Yorkshire til the day I die
I'll represent that West Yorks sign
Faithful to my northern life
Faithful to my northern rhyme
Brought up well with northern vibes
Through hard times, miners strike
Times when maggie thatcher tried
to stir up **** with lies designed
Got miners and police to fight
But don't believe that southern hype...
Those brutal battles gave us life
It redefined our future times
Redefined our future lines
Redefined the northern kind
Redefined our northern humour
Redefined our northern style
Tourists come from far and wide
to find out what the North is like
Expecting lack of cultured life
Surprised we're not uncultured swines
Rewarded with our northern minds
Our northern ways
Our northern lives

Come up north to see the great outdoors
Rolling hills
Scenes leaving you wanting more
Never mind the weather
Whether its rain or shine
Grab a pint
Sit down
Enjoy our way of life

Chills of the northern wild are rough to those
  who have no guidance or are ill-equipped
to scale the steep incline and climb exposed
  the high fells reach. No rock is lightly gripped
when every failure seeks to see me fall;
  No step is taken to be a mistake.
For what is needed to ascend this wall
  is slow to learn and hard to undertake.
Joy lies beyond the helm wind of despair
  and must be battled with to be surpassed.
So I’ll prevail here knowing that it's there.
  I’ll conquer fell and fall so I’ll be passed
to where tranquillity abounds below,
  throughout the valleys of the rain shadow.

Each and every single one of your smiles--
The smooth ones, the crooked ones,
The funny ones you make before you laugh--
Oh, especially those--
Or the ones you make when you're tired
And the ones that show your teeth,
Along with, of course, the ones you give
When you respond to the smiles I make--
Yes, all of these smiles
Light up my darkest nights
With beautiful shimmering stars.

Not to mention, when that smile turns into a kiss?
Well then, those smiles transform into the Northern Lights;
You are a galaxy much sweeter than the Milky Way.

i tried to write about you
but i soon realized
not even the best of my work
could ever compare
to the poetry
in your yellow-green **eyes

We knew of "The Troubles" for most of our lives
They were there before we were born
But, to speak of "The Troubles" to those who don't know
They can't see that our country is torn

Pop stars sing songs about England go home
They make money, while we fight the fight
They stand on the sidelines just flapping their gums
While we live, breathe, and sleep this all night

Soldiers unknowing, just why they're here
They choose sides because that's what they do
They don't know the issues, how deep "The Troubles"  go
They're just here, and that's all they know

The orange and green, divided as one
Catholics and Protestants alike
Both fight their battles and both live for peace
And the British...can get on their bike

A land half as lovely, torn asunder by war
would be laid waste, with nothing to show
But "The Troubles" aside, there's lots here to see
And lots of great places to go

It's a war of attrition, where neither side wins
Each army gets recruits from the womb
You stay on your side, and I'll stay on mine
And we'll disagree to agree to our tomb

Fighting for freedom, religion or rights
It's political, hatred and worse
Religions involved, and we've only one God
So which side does God cheer or God curse

The battle still wages, though not like before
It's a war that is fought underground
"The Troubles" remain, and will for all time
And I pray for the dead, not around

We are alone, together
In the cold climes,
Transpenine Traversing, Riverbank Residing, City and Satellite Dwelling,
But out of apparent sight of capital
Some of us lost jobs, the railway and soon the hospital
Where we both End
                                    And
                                           Begin
                              End
                                     And
                                            Begin
Put a penny in the meter, don’t let the draft in!
Soon the heat will make our flats
All expand then retract
Then we’ll see the demise of the world at large,
Until the North becomes just a group of cats
Huddling for warmth under cars.

Mr McParland;
our Primary 4 teacher lived in Newry,
Northern Ireland.
Not a City in those days,
but a dangerous border town.
He had wiry hair like a blonde Afro.

Pat Jennings;
world class goalkeeper for his country,
was also born in Newry.
Our man claimed to know him,
and went to school with the green giant.
We believed without reproach.

Yours truly;
age 6 & 7, in the years of the Hunger Strikes,
born in Belfast.
I was enthralled because Pat was of another
world to kids reared in our divided times.
A symbol of hope on an island of doubt.