Sunday, 21 June 2020
Monday, 8 June 2020
GREY'S MONUMENT
photo above by keith armstrong
Grey –
this man and his brain’s conception,
clasped in stone.
Disdainful figure
raised
on a firm, dry finger;
proud-stiff
above a time-bent avenue of dwindling lights.
The Earl’s pale forehead is cool and cloudy;
unblinking,
he views us all (as we view him)
in the same old, cold, way –
through the wrong end of a battered telescope,
through the dusty lens of history.
Strip away the tinsel
and this city’s heart is stone.
Keith Armstrong
Grey –
this man and his brain’s conception,
clasped in stone.
Disdainful figure
raised
on a firm, dry finger;
proud-stiff
above a time-bent avenue of dwindling lights.
The Earl’s pale forehead is cool and cloudy;
unblinking,
he views us all (as we view him)
in the same old, cold, way –
through the wrong end of a battered telescope,
through the dusty lens of history.
Strip away the tinsel
and this city’s heart is stone.
Keith Armstrong
AND SUCH GREAT MEN
Dobson and Grainger
were Giants of Men.
Men of Mark,
with huge hands,
they tore this town
in two.
Rebuilt it,
hauled in
rail lines,
puffed steam
into gleaming
engines.
Miracle workers
they were,
Walkers on Tyne.
So we gather in the tales
of our Great Historians.
But what of the true grafters,
the blistered and
the bruised?
What of the People
buried underground
beneath the library shelves?
What of the quiet men and women
who really built this town?
KEITH ARMSTRONG
Tuesday, 2 June 2020
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