I row along an urban stream
And on the shore I see the tears:
I saw them too in Tyne-and-Wear.
And too they scream in shrieking squeals
So loud throughout the riverside,
The same I heard across the Clyde.
And from those screams and wails of rage
I know this town has felt no peace
It was the same along the Tees.
The river bank is cold and bleak
Enough to make a man repent,
Yet bleaker still was those-on-Trent.
They suffer though are not heard,
As urgent as a dying prayer
I feel it in the winter Aire.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of Darragh Palmer
PoetryPoems written by myself. There is no linked theme, although many of them are dark in nature, and there is no update schedule. When I write a poem I'm proud of, I shall put it in here. I write a lot about Ireland and England.
