Red brick

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The red brick

like Gothic bleeding,

rises and reaches. 

Desperately it clambers

from disappointed streets.


Unlike the children who left

and took the learning,

who floated free above the hanging grey

to where the rain was gone,


these roots remained and dug in deep.


The leavers took their love

and spread it wide,

across oceans and skies.

The bitter cold that made them,

saved them.


Every step they took from here

unwound their aching hearts.

Older now,

they come back to feel this earth,

rewound their souls are warmed.

Yet, they will not stay.


This place, 

these towns,

make hearts that seek to find.

They sacrifice their best

then stand as monuments to them.


Like bereaved parents

these streets see ghosts.


◄ Viva la Revolución!

Chichester harbour, late autumn walk ►


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Wolfgar Miere

Tue 20th Dec 2016 09:06

Thanks Ray,

there is still plenty going on in Manchester, in respect of the arts its thriving. Whether it is as influential as previously, I guess we will find out in time.

Thank again for your reading and comments.


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Tue 13th Dec 2016 19:09

I've spotted this due to Mike's comments David. Sorry that I missed it before. The red streets are so memorable, and you draw out the strength and power of vested capital and the hardness of the area in a very humanistic way in this poem . At one time Manchester had a thriving music scene but don't know about it now. You get a real feel of the municipal weight of the place and the Victorian watch chains and bowler hats.


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Wolfgar Miere

Tue 13th Dec 2016 10:11

Thanks Mike,

yes I was very taken with Manchester. I know a little of its history, but being surrounded by the grandeur of its buildings and almost squalid nature of its streets it impacted on me in a powerful way.

The red is domineering and can make a person shrink, I thought it felt like Gotham which was an interesting idea.

I understand your nocturnal wanderings very much, madness seeks the shadows, we both get that I think. To wander in cities at night can really open up new ways of seeing it. At night it is very much the cities true children who emerge onto its streets, the hidden ones who are in fact as real a product of our endeavours as are the bankers and corporates who build the cages.

So all in all I was captivated by Manchester, but life is very much at street level and not necessarily in the inspiring buildings which spring up all around.

Thanks Mike.


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Tue 13th Dec 2016 01:58

Hi David,

Lot's of true words and plenty of verse to reference. My guess is you were a little inspired by your trip up North recently.

I have written about Manchester in my works and made reference to the Accrington Brick which has practically built everything in The North West. Sometimes I would reach a high vantage point and see swathes of redness around the towns that make up the North. I actually am very appalled in many ways, because most of the houses are red brick.

However, if you walk into the centres at night, you get a different feel. During my days of madness I would sometimes walk 8 miles from Heywood to the City Centre and walk among the many Victorian buildings. At night under the ambience of the lights, it could be a very inspiring journey. I would then take myself to a favorite cafe near Piccadilly Station to drink in the Tramps, the Night Clubbers, the fights, etc etc etc. I was quite lonely in many ways or should I say a loner.

The sentiments within the prose are brilliant. Yes many take their love away. Many return but many do not.

Living within it's confines, the red brick offers little but adds in hardening the soul.

So much love there but, Manchester, so much to answer for too.

Great Piece David.


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