On Bidborough Ridge

Another poem inspired by my local area with references to Bidborough, Southborough, the Downs and A21!

On Bidborough Ridge

My heart lies in the hammock of this green valley
It’s gentle sides I pull about me on my return,
Grateful for its soft embrace and the chance at last,
To rest, far from the world I once devoured,
Before it turned on me and then took chase.

The field where I fumbled through my teenage years
In golden nests amongst the hay -I heard not long ago,
she had passed away –
The white bell-tower of my old school
From whose negligence I made a full recovery.

But today, when I climbed to the high ridge
And looked below, at the remnants of that
Which I used to know, beneath this sky
That silk screens the clouds, I saw
Nothing beyond the road that slips
Beyond the dusty evening Downs.

An unknown future beckons and I am reluctant,
To follow, an old dog dragging behind its master,
Beneath St Peter’s clock which has been three minutes late,
Ever since they bound and gagged,
Our churches with black tape
And the birds became our evensong
In a clear cathedral sky.

This land
My comfortI shall gladly take
But I am no fool, this is my end
There are no pastures new.


July 2021





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