Another nice poetry prompt today to do with “sound of home”. Yesterday was all about sound: I spent the afternoon storytelling with the lovely Manchester Children’s Book Festival team in their story tent. (Hence why the haiku, it was a wonderful afternoon but I was quite tired by the time I got home!)
So, slightly off topic as Rochdale, although important, isn’t home to me. Source material from my field notes notebook (we call this “ear wigging” around these parts).
You don’t need to tell me your secrets – I
know “the hills are not constructed by man
or machine.” The plastic bag bunting in
the trees. She said “and that’s what annoyed me”
as the tram moved along. No one off, no
one on. “Newbold Grass” overlooks the town,
the tags, the blue mosque. Not at the station
but food across the road. “Keep Calm and Eat.
It’s a Jungle Out There.” The Polski Sklep,
then Brides of Rochdale all white froth and frill.
The thrilling chatter about Google Earth,
“Went on, dropped the man down, dead good innit?”