As ghettoed east in Old York Leeman's hackers hewed the cutting through the
Those dispatched west remembered distant kin, no hint of famine and green arable land
English is the name that's given to the hand that marching, ransacked, claimed.
Upon their ships hitched fearful, hungry, stowed among the salted pork and barreled greens
Not for them just dreams of distant hope in promised land but hard work heralding returning
While, all but forgetting, half a nation hunted far. — Set sail for a New World
Never — found lamenting 'cept in letter, song or tears dripped late into a lighter brew
Bitter spitted words true but such working folk forget, — The famine never happened.
|Adrian Spendlow is a performance poet, storyteller and community artist well known for his work at festivals where, as well as performances or workshops, he is remembered best by bands for the introductory poems he writes for them. He runs Bright Light Arts in York, UK. He is currently working on a writers guide called Poemspotters and is always glad to hear from poets who want to see submission guidelines. He has his own website at http://homepage.ntlworld.com/adrian.spendlow/||
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This page last updated: 12th November 2006.