The Lonely Planet voted Yorkshire the third best place to visit in the world in 2014. One thing for sure, it’s number one in the world to visit at anytime for watching rugby league. Lancashire might have something to say about this, so to address the issue here is my take on the matter.
In six days the world was created,
On the seventh came demarcation lines,
One of these is a stretch of hills,
Famously known as the Pennines,
They separate men from madmen,
They divide the east from west,
The White Rose from the Red Rose,
And we argue which is the best?
Lancashire hot pot? Yorkshire pudding?
Hull KR? St. Helens? Hull FC?
Yet regardless what we’ve got, or not,
Up north rugby fans grin with glee,
Because we’re northerners, not southerners,
And a truth that we revere,
The body is marvellous for turning,
Northern ale into southern beer,
But no matter our tribal allegiance,
Or the challenge we hope to win,
Making winning taste even sweeter,
Is that the loser gets the drinks in!
Poetry In the Car, Thinking Rugby OR In the Shower, Panicking By Jessica Leathley
What’s it about, this rugby? What does it mean to me?
I don’t understand it, I don’t know the rules
I don’t know the names or the words or the teams.
Is it Union or League I ask and I ask.
League Jess League! The exasperation shows.
Airlie Birds, Robins, Warriors, Bulls
What do they mean? What are those? Read more...
Poetry Stroke City By Ernest Jackson
Culture in Derry stroke Londonderry
Defeated ancient divisions stroke splits:
RC stroke CE and Irish stroke Brits.
Quarrels too old to forget stroke bury.
Culture in Hull stroke Kingston upon Hull
Developed through few stroke many a year
Uniting the Roundhead stroke Cavalier:
People whose bird is the pigeon stroke gull. Read more...
Poetry East and West By David Thompson
I came to cross the great divide,
That stops the traffic at high tide,
With border guard who glowered down,
At anyone from east of town,
'Across this bridge you shall not pass,
You come from Rovers land alas', Read more...
Poetry Respect By Catherine Scott
The atmosphere is buzzing at the KC ground
There is an absolutely terrifying cacophony of sound
The crowd want to see a hard fought match
On their very own turf, their very own patch
The teams run on and they all shake hands
Sing National Anthems as tradition demands
They fall out of line and take up position Read more...
Poetry The Homing Poet By Pamela Scobie
After a night revisiting your greatest triumphs,
I left you outside with the bins.
They called from the landfill.
Would I collect?
You were discommoding the migrant workers.
By chucking in the defunct spin-drier, Read more...
Poetry - Rugby Kids By Alan Padwick
When we were kids we played rugby in the street
no posts, no grass and only sandshoed feet.
Sometimes we had an egg shaped ball,
at other times a sphere.
But we were tough and we played rough,
and most of all we had no fear. Read more...
Poetry - Reprisals in Ulster By Patrick Henry
Now, when the worst clashes and scores looked settled.
The Agreement signed. Another loaded term.
As all troubles hinged on ways how letters sounded.
The old tongue once banned. Hidden orders, passed in that tone.
While loud verbals of ruling powers held the streets;
And seethed hateful, in those kept low, out to bog land parts; Read more...
Poetry - The Curse of Shyness By Dayne Coyne
You never seem to notice
No matter what I try to do
You never seem to notice
The way that I’m burning inside for you
Well, though I’ve tried a-dreaming
And I’ve tried a-scheming
Poetry - Welcome To Hull By Robert Eunson
Hull ...Where you can go bird watching down Preston Road ... and you're absolutely certain to see The Greater Spotted Chav ... in abundance.
Hull ... Where you can still go down Walton Street market and buy your granny a secondhand set of false teeth ... for less than a fiver.
Poetry - Strong For Too Long By Phil Lamb
From the comfort of my crumpled, quilt womb
The sentry tower clock rings out round the room
Awakened from the world where I wish to stay
A world I struggle to get to at the end of the day
I yearn for the world of colour that is so far away
Instead of this world with its blackness and grey Read more...
Poetry - Paltry Poultry Poetry By Martin S Hines
I saw a bird
The bird it looked back
The bird was a duck
Quite quiet its quack
A limp in its leg
And a crick in its back
Broken, one wing Read more...
Poetry - Sundays By Michelle Dee
They tell me there is a deer, roaming free
in the graveyard - I've never seen it.
I've seen a muddy dog haring, all paws and playfulness,
the dry husk of a fallen seed, now skeletal and fruitless.
A forgotten garden-seat swinging, couple-less in the breeze.
The aching of a stout ship, full sail behind a dusty pane. Read more...
Poetry - Fairytale Love By Katelyn Langston
I drown it out with happiness
I drown it out with tears
Pushed back into my memory
You find my biggest fears
Some could be considered normal
Some could be considered fake Read more...
Poetry Funny The Things That Happen By Pamela Scobie Photograph by Tim Green
I met an angel the other day.
He was sitting on the steps outside Wrangthorne Church
in his shirt sleeves
in the sunshine.
And d'you know what my instinctive, uncharitable thought was? How dare you?
Poetry - Poppy Power By Ted Harben
Do you ever sense the visions
in the poppy that you buy,
the countless squads of soldiers
ever cheerful, marching by?
See the bloody scenes of battle,
the carnage of the guns;
or watch the ghosts returning,
Poetry - Ode to a Tea Bag By Ruth Dixon
Tea, I love thee
You're yang to my yee
But when you're mint
You're not everything
You're cracked up to be
Tea, you and me
When I find myself in times of trouble PG Read more...
Poetry Casa Nostra By Pamela Scobie
He took her away from a house that had loved her
And told her to find another
So they could be together.
'You'll do it, kid,' he said.
So she did.
It was in need of affection and care
And he wasn't there. Read more...
Poetry - A Study of Mischief By Bronwyn Ellis
When sticking my nose into trouble,
Cured the bullies' thirst at school,
It was worth those shitty grades,
To know that I could still keep cool,
And deal out rebel stories,
To naughty pups half my size. Read more...
Poetry - Bonfire Night Memories By Simon Icke
It's bonfire night and the sky
is full of crackles and bangs,
brightly coloured lights.
The damp November air;
full of gunpowder and
the smell of fires
Poetry HU7 Part One By Kerry-Joe Pulford
Almost de-railed, too thin, too pale, looks quite scary for her age,
Hides behind the home page.
Best diet ever tasted,
Direct from How to Look Good Wasted.