These streets aren’t meant for dreaming
A deluge of rain
slides off the Pennines
soaks me through
as I look at you
in the tower block estates
and in the few battered terraces left
in this our dirty old town.
slides off the Pennines
soaks me through
as I look at you
in the tower block estates
and in the few battered terraces left
in this our dirty old town.
I am reminded of women
in floral pinnies, with hair nets on,
as they scrub at their front step
before leaving to clean
the houses of the rich
up on Eccles old road.
in floral pinnies, with hair nets on,
as they scrub at their front step
before leaving to clean
the houses of the rich
up on Eccles old road.
Her dazzling smile
spreads like an AIDS blanket
and falls deep, deep into memory.
spreads like an AIDS blanket
and falls deep, deep into memory.
She is now a part of my memory
of a particular place and time
a time of miners and dockers
of the Salford Lads’ Club,
of Joy Division and the Hacienda. .
of a particular place and time
a time of miners and dockers
of the Salford Lads’ Club,
of Joy Division and the Hacienda. .
Generations of Irish walked these streets,
built the factories and canals.
Look now at all the Catholic churches.
Harold Riley painted this view
from his sick bed in Salford Royal hospital.
Walter Greenwood’s word painting
of Love on the Dole
never grows old
and still the toll rises.
built the factories and canals.
Look now at all the Catholic churches.
Harold Riley painted this view
from his sick bed in Salford Royal hospital.
Walter Greenwood’s word painting
of Love on the Dole
never grows old
and still the toll rises.
We pay our dues, mostly,
here the lessons of Peterloo
are not lost on you
the poll tax riots; the miners’ strike;
now a continuing resistance
to the bastard money men.
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John Marks
Sun 26th Nov 2023 14:45
Cheers Greg, Stephen, Hélène and Red. I will continue to try Stephen, I am very trying! John