Dead Derwent,
where late the live fish swam;
dead forests,
where late the old trees grew;
dead trees
“where late the sweet birds sang”
dead docks
where now “Big Men can Fly”
and car horns clang
where players fight
and crowds harangue
and where the shore,
once peaceful, calm and clean
a place for Veterans’ thoughts serene
will reek of beer and rank meat pies
and now resound to screams and cheers
abuse and violence, threatening leers,
instead of haunting seabirds’ cries.
Janet Upcher has lectured in English and French Literature, is a published author of fiction, drama and poetry, and has worked as a freelance editor. Outside the world of literature, she runs marathons.
