pennine butterfly
resting on hot summer's day
cooling open wings
Pennine Butterfly
Category: Photopoetry
Of Pennine Cricket
Of bat
Of ball
Of hallowed turf
Of Pennine greens and golds
Of patchwork fields
Of grazing sheep
Of cries of “catch it”, “owzat”, and “six”
Of moorland skies
Of Pennine cloud
Of lonely scoreboards
Of parasols, pints, and picnics
Of autumnal hours
Above the valley
Of Pennine cricket
In West Yorkshire
©Alan McKean
23 August 2025
Written at Stones CC. Stones versus Mytholmroyd
Norfolk Sunset
River Yare, Brundall, Norfolk ©Alan McKean
a Norfolk sunset
reflecting the warmth of day
catching a shadow
November Roses
A second chance
A second bloom
November roses,
Long separated
From their summer siblings,
Drift,
Hand in hand,
Into the prospect
Of cold winter,
Gracefully.
Beadnell harbour
fishing boat ponders
inviting open harbour
sun's last goodnight gold
Web
first autumnal mists
filigreean domiciles
spring up overnight
Sundays in the park
Father used to take us
To the park on Sundays,
Where we’d listen to the band
And watch the old men playing bowls.
It always seemed to be sunny
And so carefree
As we promenaded
Around the park, parasols ablaze,
I remember vividly
The corner where the Recruiting Sargent
Exhorted the young men
To take the King’s shilling
And bring peace for Christmas.
It seemed so odd
To talk of Christmas
In the midsummer sunshine,
But it didn’t stop
The boys from stepping up.
I remember the day
When we first stepped out,
I couldn’t stop looking
At your smiling face
And thinking of the future.
I remember the day
When you walked me
Down the aisle,
Both of us
Lost in love.
I remember the day
When you took the shilling
And dressed in khaki,
Our daughter Sally laughed
At your silly hat.
I remember the day
When you left for France,
Back soon you said
It’ll soon be sorted,
And home for Christmas.
I remember the day
When the telegram arrived
And broke my heart.
Sally held my hand,
Not knowing why.
Days passed in a whirl,
The years trundled on.
Sally grew and blossomed,
She also married a soldier,
Remembering the day she held my hand.
I remember the day
When Sally received her telegram
Not knowing where her Bill had been lost.
Her daughter held her hand,
Not knowing why.
I remember the day …………………………..
But do I?
Time takes its toll
And softens the memories
As it passes
Memories become distorted
As the mind ages
But, my love,
Two things remain constant:
Your smile,
And our Sundays in the park
Water Wheel
Water wheel long stopped
Mice and voles now resident
In a past story
Rolling Thunder
Dark rolling thunder
Pennines await the deluge
Wet day is promised
Stillness
Still Summer’s evening
Still waters
Old bridge reflects
In the lee of the valley road
‘twixt the twin bridges
Of Hebden and Sowerby