Meat pie

Poetry

They lined up down the street

For a chance they got one

The kids on the grapevine

Whispering the news

The meat pies are in

The boys from baxendale

Made young men smile

As a waft of meat

Travelled from the chip shop

The meat pies were in

And wrapped up with chips

And a dash of chip shop vinegar

Young lads would follow their dads

Delivering Friday nights tea

The meat pies were in

Tale of a tower crane

Architecture, Buildings, Industrial, Poetry

Originally posted by Inky on Allpoetry.com

Now posted for your reading!   Enjoy

A Tower crane. on Salfords Trafford Road, the subject of this character piece
A Tower crane. on Salford’s Trafford Road, the subject of this character piece Created by Inky

Do you like building? well, I do! I’m stood amongst my creations, with my great arm, aloft in the air.  It’s a thankless task this job I do, but you’ll never hear me complain – oh, no, no, no.  You see, the ants down below are building something grand!  And although a pot of sand doesn’t weigh a lot for an ant, when there’s thirty or forty pots in just one bag – and there’s a big wooden palette of a thousand bags to be taken to the fifteenth floor, it can be a great strain on a whole host of ants.

And that’s where my friend’s the four-wheelers come in,  You see. The ants use the four-wheelers to move things around, FLT lifts things about whilst Dumper moves all sorts of things around the site, and Mix – well you should see her make concrete…and Digger is just the four wheeler for making holes

But they haven’t got a great arm like me…

So I help them, and they help me.

And that’s where my great arm comes in to play

You see, the four wheelers do great things but even FLT can only lift so high, so when I’m needed, I move things from east to west, and up and down.  It’s great fun watching the things move in the air.  I watch the things as they move with grace through the air.   Its like being a magician…one minute the bricks are here and the next, they are there!  One place to another – From A to B.  It’s all me.  I have lots of fun moving the sand and the bricks and the steel.

But, I have to be careful when I play my game of “Stack and Lift”, so I have a little ant to help me.  Each morning, he wakes me up. and when it’s time for me to do my thing, he directs to the next building blocks and tells me which ant or four wheeler I need to get them to.

And when the day is over, and the ants have left for the day, as the four wheelers sleep I stand and watch the lights cascading on the things I’ve helped to make.  Before its time for the lights to go out and for me to go to sleep, I watch the glow worms shine their lights about below.  It’s fun to watch them moving about but they’re not as pretty as the moon and stars beaming brightly above my head.

So I watch them for a while, and then I go to sleep,

with my great arm high in the air.

Poppy Hospital

Acrostic, Art, Arts, Poetry

#Craft #Museum #Poppy #Damage

IWM North, Manchester 17th November 2018

From time to Mother nature has been at the

Implanted ceramics by the canalside

X-tra ceramic poppies have had to be brought in

Even barriers – and broken ones have to be sent to the poppy hospital

Damage repaired with Slip and Glue (and more red paint) 

Palm tree

Poetry

Out on the island

Under the soil, comes a branch

Towards the sky it goes

Reaching up high

A soaring trunk

Grown from a tiny seed

Eventually it’ll be enormous,

On occasion it will bear some fruit, and sometimes

Under the soil they will go, as they fall to earth

Sleeping till it’s time for them to reach the sky

Old friends

Poetry

Salford, 14th November 2018

Memories of a mate, brought back in an instant

A blast from the past, delivered with a click

Noted – you’ve not talked for a while

Changes in address do that 

Hoping – they remember your name

Expectations raised as they recognise your face

Someone should have said – its the passing of time

Talk about the old days, in a familiar place

Engaging about others 

Round a table with Tea and cake

Charlie

Growing up, Life, Poetry, Romance, Romantic

Who am I, life’s Charlie Brown ?

For she catches my eye, and I’ve fallen down

Tongue tied with her beauty, so close at hand

Even though the words in the head I’d planned

a wonderful sight, with a beautiful mind

sometimes she’s harsh, but on the whole she is kind

Catching me out with those dark brown eyes

Occasional glances catch me by surprise

Heart rising by a beat when she’s so near

No more than friends, to me that is clear

Talking shop on the backyard, sharing an occasional smile

With the girl with the red hair, I want to stay awhile

Fragile heart

Poetry, Romance

i gave her my heart

and she took a hammer to it

shattering as it did in pieces

across the dance hall floor

in one moment

and a fleeting goodbye kiss

she left me standing in the middle of the sparkle lit room

with a crowd and a mark

Filled the passing hours

with nothing but a face

casting eyes over

old photographs

took time to rebuild

the emotional jigsaw

a piece of the jigsaw lies missing

could that be you ?

Long day

Poetry

Early morning wake up call

Cereal and toast

Start of the day

To remember most

Memorials made

In churches and chapels

And then to museums

Remembering all those alike

Remembering those

Who one hundred years past

Fought for their country

First to the last