Poem
Where am I?
Where am I?
A pin prick image attached to a cross
A balloon fastened on so it won’t get lost
You can see where I live on a map of the world
On a flat screen computer or a map that’s been curled
50 miles away from where Queen Elizabeth eats her dinner
You know ‘Buck’ House;
The one you run past if you are going to be a winner
A mile or two from a county town
East of England, adjacent
Once known as the largest village in England!
A short walk away from a Saxon church
I remember fondly
Pushing the pram up the walkway
Explaining the stories and the hearsay
‘Ladies Walk’ was the local talk
Frightened some yet fuelled the imagination of others
Put the fear of God in most of us Mothers!
Trecking to our rural village school
Passing tranquil fields on our left and the flowing river weir on our right
We couldn’t imagine a time when the ground would be churned, recycled and changed
To uncover the past archaeological age
The well, we peeped down and we all stood amazed!
Seeing remains of a settlement who enjoyed sea oysters
Gave a little laugh to imagine the nuns eating them
Huddled together in cloisters.
The greenery, shrubbery, green newts and fox have all disappeared.
Locals shook their saddened heads to see the tractors do all they feared
Flown away, the song of birds whose home we shared as we past through
Bulldozers churning petrol fumes, men with barking dogs stand guard
To reinforce us locals – barred!
What have they done to our village town?
Chunks of metal, concrete raised so high to span a space within the sky
A road, a bypass, call it what you may
Architectural diarrhoea, we will never recover
Our children’s children will have no recall
Of an area so beautiful that’s gone to the wall
How can you build something so modern next to a piece of historical wonder?
This is the question I will forever ponder.
William the Conqueror’s niece, Judith
Commissioned the West Tower, nave and chancel
Where the bells did chime in one of the ‘Ends’
To Bell End they drifted we try to comprehend!
John Bunyan’s home not far away
Where in this district he did pay
For preaching from the Holy Scripture
Then Imprisoned in a local fixture
John and Judith knew the pleasure
Of roaming through the fields at leisure
If only they could help today
To keep the Highway Agency at bay
Irene Grant-Jones
Bedford, ENGLAND
I'm a singer.I call myself SopranoIGJ.
Overall I enjoy making people laugh especially when I write.Ilove to see people amused.I am setting some of my lyrics to music and will then sing them myself them. To empathise, sympathise and encourage creativity in our world wide community.
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