The Map of the World

For Naomi

Not Naomi!

The Map of the World

The map of the world
Tattooed on your back
Makes distances shrink
Borders and frontiers,
Those man made creations,
are no longer present

We all live together
There are no separate races
Just the good and the bad
All of humankind's faces
Are really just one
As we look to the sky
The same sun moon and wind
That gave us our life
Are symbolised by
The sketchy blue lines
Tattooed on your back

Tim Fellows 2018

While you were sleeping

While you were sleeping

While you were sleeping
Some lights came on
While you were sleeping
Telephones rang
Your gentle snoring
did not silence the orders
You turned on your side
and dreamt of the seaside
Blue skies, breeze salt scented
The cries of small children
Swimming and splashing
Unaware of the horror
unleashed in your absence
without your approval
The cries of the innocent
Screaming and pleading
Grey suits grimly smiling
When you were sleeping

Tim Fellows 2018

Markham 1938 - Walking Home

On May 10th 1938 79 miners lost their lives and 40 were seriously injured in an explosion at Markham Colliery in Derbyshire. This poem is dedicated to them.

The photo is of the ongoing "Walking Together" memorial representing each of the 106 miners killed in 1938, in an explosion in 1937 and in the overwind disaster of 1973 (see here for my poem about that)

Walking Home

A long day working in the pit
Knowing that we've done our bit
Cough and spit, cough and spit
As we are walking home

We're tired but we've done our job
We've done it all for just five bob
Don't cry, my children, don't you sob
'Cos we are walking home

Blackened like the dark of night
A bath waits by the warm fire light
Once that's done we'll feel alright
When we've done walking home

Seems ages since I've eaten owt
It's like sandpaper on me throat
A beer or two'll get me vote
But we're still walking home

Just one spark; that's all it took
All the mine and village shook
We escaped by pure blind luck
Now we are walking home

Where are Herbert and his lads?
All those kids without their dads
It's well beyond just feeling sad
'Cos they're not walking home

Choked by firedamp, blown to bits;
Burnt and charred in a fiery blitz
It's enough to make you lose your wits
But we're still walking home

Thinking of our brothers, lost,
into their fate casually tossed
By owners that don't know the cost
For they are driving home

Their mining life came to an end
Husband, father, brother, friend
And now their weary way they wend
Forever walking home

Tim Fellows May 10th 2018

Orgreave

The site where the Battle of Orgreave happened in June 1984 is now covered by a kind of country park with shale tracks. Next to it are hundreds of newly built homes and it backs onto the Advanced Manufacturing Park, where I work.

There's plenty to say about Orgreave, but I wasn't there. I wasn't even in the area at that time and only saw it playing out on TV. Now, over 30 years later, it seems like ancient history - the iconic photographs of the time are in black and white and society seems to have moved on. But has it?

Thanks to Ian Duhig for helping to finish the poem.  

Orgreave

I weave through the
short cut, the rat run,
where the men ran
from mounted batons.

Narrow, winding roads
bear the brunt
of muscular 4x4s
that now taxi kids
to school

over land that saw
the fist of State
crash into the face
of Justice.

Lives pass in perfect
box houses
and dogs are walked
on red tracks, sniffing
as if they smell the
long dried blood.

Where tabloids spun
their web of lies
the turbines spin;
the memories
are fading now
to black and white

The pit wheels stopped
but turning still
the old film reel
the men in graves
until history proves
just who was right

Tim Fellows 2018

June Fellows part 2

Today, May 2nd, was my mum's funeral. It was an amazing turnout with the chapel absolutely packed, a lovely service and a chance, albeit for a sad reason, to catch up with family.

I also discovered my family had managed to create poetry where, so far, I haven't to celebrate her life. My daughter Naomi wrote this - her first poem other than the ones she may have been forced to create at school. She then, with great courage, read it out at the funeral service.

The Captain and the Ship

The spray hits the mast,
damp chill hanging in the air.
Drifting in gloomy dark waters,
With wind whipping through your hair.

The ship takes hit after hit
As the waves start crashing in.
A feeling of being lost
Or something like dread can creep in.

Yet what’s good to remember
In such a dire situation.
Is the resilience of the captain
Out there leading her nation.

For if the ship was to crash,
End up wounded and so broken.
She will feel the pain right with it,
Whispering words so softly spoken.

For if the ship was to sink,
Seems like it’s close to drowning.
She stays right on board with it,
For sense of familiar surrounding.

But there’s lighthouses for storms,
beaming through the swells that mock.
The captain embraces the shine,
To guide away from the rock.

She calls upon the anchor
At a timing so precise.
Not so soon to limit freedom,
But when staying still seems nice.

Then cruising through the calm
Is something not to miss.
The captain takes it in her stride,
Absorbing her tranquil bliss.

She’s the leader, the protector.
Without her things stand still
Yet the ship must learn to drive itself
With some strength and a bit of self will.

Naomi Fellows 2018

My sister Jill wrote this one, which I read out at the committal. She also wrote and delivered a fabulous eulogy. I love these poems - they have set a high bar for me to achieve when, I hope, my poem comes to me.

Looking For You

I'll look for you in all my milestones 

Through the decades still to come.

I'll look for you throughout life's changes

All the races still to run.

And yet, I know that looking isn't needed,

For in so many moments, you'll be there.

You're there in every pink-tinged sunrise

Every golden sunset, every quiet prayer.

You're there in happy children's laughter

There in music, there in song;

You're in the gentle springtime breezes

There as summer days grow long

You're there in every bright dawn chorus

There as starlight fills the evening sky

You're there in winter's first crisp frosts, and

There in white clouds rolling by. 

You're in the misty autumn mornings

There as waves break on the shore

You're there when friends all meet together

There beside me, evermore.

And when, in years to come

A younger hand with tender care

Takes my own, and holds it fast in theirs

I'll look for you, and You'll be there. 

Jill Vavasour 2018