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Chris Slade Apr 18
Ted Slade • (my cousin)
Withernsea, Holderness, East Yorkshire

Last night the sea ripped the beach from its bed.
We heard the screams
but know too well not to interfere
in these family disputes.
In the morning we gathered to look,
ghouls at a death,
the sea at our feet, calm,
sated, gulls riding at anchor on it shoulders.

The meadow’s gone the same way,
yard by yard, year by year.
Now the house sways on the brink.
When he saw his rose bushes
scattered down the cliff, Jack cried.
Finally we moved out when
the garden shed was launched
one winter’s night.
Very Important Persons
brought their sympathies,
and went away nodding.
Perhaps we’ll become little islanders.
Though surely not.
... New Atlanteans at least.

Ted Slade • 1939-2004
From Ted's book 'The Last Arm Pointing'.
Chris Slade Apr 17
When the skylarks would warble hover and sing
at about a hundred feet, high on the wing, and we…
on a heat clicking Sunday between Salt End and the sea,
well we knew - just from the ozone, on the breeze
that we’d be off …a shimmering heat haze convoy of old crocks,
Bud, Margaret, Brian and me to Tunstall,
a diminishing, mystical land of sun, sand, sea - and tumbling rocks.

But it wasn’t just us…it was a cavalcade - motors galore.
Uncles,  Aunties, Cousins, Grans, Grandads and more
in Austins, Morris’s, Vauxhalls and Fords,
And a big old Rover wi’them wide running boards,
a motor bike’n’sidecar with Maurice, Denise & our Val
to wring the best from the day a’la Plage de Tunstall’…

The beach crackled in the heat…
if you walked too slow it’d burn your feet.
and our Dads, our ‘civil engineers’, built a brick oven and in a
giggling gaggle… Mums cooked a real Sunday dinner.
Kids’d run back & forth to the sea and back
buckets & spades, hacking big holes and shots in goal,
cricket with fallen rocks for a wicket and,
after pudding, burying drunken dads in the sand.

Heavy, wet woolen cozzies, sand in groins,
...changing in turn, under a soaking wet, gritty towel.

“Don’t dry me with that, Ow! Buddy hell - watch my sunburn.”
Then, all back in the cars, for our return
into the sunset and driving away.

Chaffing sore shoulders.

Chuffing good day! - yeah…Parfait!!
Memories of an East Yorkshire childhood. Let's hear it for Tunstall.
Tommy Randell Jul 2019
I walked with Caldey
Out into the woods today
Recent heat and rain
Has produced a surge of growth.

I photographed it all
In my own naive way
The honeysuckle and ragged robin
The foxgloves and the briar rose.

The paths were made narrow
Grown in with grass and fern
A proper English woodland crush
Walks I have done for over 60 years.

I found what I went to find
That peace behind my eyes
And that perpetual skylark
High above... between my ears.

Thanks to Hello Poetry
I can put such thoughts
Out into a world
Of cultures and countries far and wide.

Thanks to Hello Poetry
Readers can share these moments
And I can honestly say you were here today
In Yorkshire in the woods this 1st July
Caldey is my 11 month Fox Red Labrador.

Scarlet, I wrote this because of you. Thank You for reading me.
H L Godden Oct 2016
The fog unrolls itself from hill to tarmac
like winter blinds. It sinks behind hedges
and hovers, hawk-like, over the canal.

A streetlight winks from the path,
muffled by ***** white like a child
smothered in his new winter coat.

The trees have given up for the year
leaving mushy browns and crisp yellows,
sweet damp smell pushed up noses.

Morrison’s is open till ten now.
Piles of pumpkins watch in sorrow,
waiting for homes next to plastic spiders.
Paul Butters May 2016
They’re really rockin’ in Bradford,
Off the Pennine Way.
Deep in the heart of Yorkshire
And round the Robin Hood’s Bay.
All over South Ossett
And down to New Farnley.
Roast beef and Yorkie Puddings,
God’s Own County, Yay!

Yull see ‘em rambling at Ilkley,
Right to the county line,
Sheffield steel and Wednesday –
A football team so fine.
Better still, Leeds United,
Greatest club of all time.

Yorkshire, Kings of Cricket,
Oh what a boon!
Get down that wicket,
We’ll be champs by June.
Down a ginnel or snicket,
See our Olympic Champs.
Coal Miner Picket,
Relight those lamps.

Racing pigeons and ferrets,
Stereotypes tha knows.
Over t’top in Lancashire,
Them there’s our foes.
We’re the greatest county,
Our pride really glows.
We know you all hate us,
It keeps us on our toes.

So we’ll be rockin’ in Yorkshire,
What more can I say?
Us Tykes 're as barmy as Barnsley,
So I’ll be on my way.

Paul Butters

(With due thanks to Chuck Berry and also The Beach Boys)
LOL
gray rain Apr 2016
The Yorkshire accent
sounds pretty rough
"T" doesn't exist
unless you from Bradford
then you can't pronounce things propperly
and you say Bratfd
and the "o" lasts too long
the note is held on
now you knooow
how two letters are pronounced
go learn the dialect
not heard down soulth
This probably doesn't make sence unless you are one of the select few. This probably isn't true it's just things my friends pick up on and things we told them. "Y" also sounds messed up.
Tom Fawley Jan 2016
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 and sit down and enjoy our way of life.

Born and bred northern boy
But no flat cap or courderoys,
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 ruthless battles between both sides.
But don't believe that southern hype, 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,
But we're not all uncultured swines and we don't all live farmers lives and you all love our northern minds,
Relax, enjoy this countryside

Come up north to see the great outdoors
rolling hills,scenes leaving you wanting more
now never mind the weather, whether its rain or shine,
grab a pint and sit down and enjoy our way of life.
Where I'm from
Thomas Newlove Dec 2015
One often 'as problems sleepin'
In ways which affect ones 'ealth
But 'ow can one deal wit 'out but weepin'
When one 'as a fear of their self
Tweet verse uses the exact amount of characters allowed for a tweet on Twitter, no more, no less.
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