Tag Archives: Eileen Earnshaw

Night on Our Street by Eileen Earnshaw

 

NIGHT ON OUR STREET.

 

Night falls.

Silence sings her lonely song

heavy with nostalgia.

aimlessly she wanders,

lingers by the cars and vans,

drifts into the garden

passed shirts and tops and socks with holes

dreaming on the washing line

motionless, forgotten.

 

This is the world of nocturnes,

of hedgehogs and the urban fox,

of spiders weaving silver webs,

of winged death and scurrying life

whispering its stories.

Soon silence  will retreat

fold the night into herself

sound and light once again

regains its place of dominance.

 

Eileen Earnshaw Autumn 2020.

The Rabbit of St. Mary, Eileen Earnshaw

The Rabbit of St Mary’s in’t Baum.

 

Just over a hunnert year ago,

 

a site were sought fer a church.

 

T one as they ad weren’t up ter scratch,

 

they wanted one as  they could match

 

Agen t cathedral i Manchester,

 

or at least agen St Chads.

 

So, they chose a site i Rochda town,

 

twixt river ant Lordburn stream,

 

on a spare bit o green by ‘t’ graveyard

 

and ‘t’other owd church in between.

 

They thowt as this were a gradely idea,

 

an set to wi’t diggers and shovels,

 

till they cum ter southern side’o’ t church

 

and boss said ‘lads, we’re in trouble.

 

Auld reverend Shone, he’s bin  round ere,

 

and e sez, we’re disturbin  th graves.

 

E sez we.re disturbin t childer

 

who’ve slept here for mony a year.

 

E sez we’ve to stop. Put an end ter’t job,

 

Or, for our souls we will fear.

 

So they put down their shovels, they put down the spades,

 

an went off ter’t pub for a pint,

 

And the reverend rubbed his ot little ands

 

and did a quick dance of delight.

 

Cos he knew a secret, that no one else knew

 

of a mysterious, wonderful herb.

 

That grew on’t graves of the childer there

 

That cured all th’ ills that man had to bear

 

And whats more, it cleaned up yer soul.

 

An he thought, if they budge church up a bit,

 

as they must, if threatened with hell.

 

I’ll get the new church, and I’ll keep the balm,

 

serve God and mammon as well.

 

But no-body ever knows everything

 

Some- times we may think that we might.

 

He didn’t know of the rabbit

 

That wandered the green in the night

 

He’d belonged to one of t childer

 

And when ‘t’ child had been laid to his rest,

 

He swore he would alers protect ‘im

 

And the green where his playmates slept.

 

With the aid of the magic mysterious balm

 

He had served them for mony a year

 

but when he heard of the reverends plans,

 

he was filled wi a terrible fear.

 

An his fur went white, his teeth grew strong,

 

he was filled with resolution,

 

and as the moon rose cold and clear,

 

sed taa raa ter’t  sun till ‘t morning.

 

He started to eat the mysterious herb

 

and carried on till dawning.

 

Though his belly ached, and his teeth wore down,

 

he chewed and chewed right through to the ground

 

and the balm was all gone in the morning.

 

Well, the Reverend Shone he swore and he cursed.

 

He shook his fists and ranted,

 

his heart was filled with unholy rage till

 

it burst with a terrible mighty pain

 

and his life on this earth it was ended.

 

So, church wer built and ‘t’ graves were saved,

 

it goes under name of St Mary’s

 

and if you’re about on a moonlight night,

 

you might see a rabbit that pauses in flight,

 

behind him a man in a long black cloak

 

oo’ sounds just like he’s choking.

 

They run through the wall and the market stalls

 

passed where they used to sell fish,

 

left to the place, where the theatre stood

 

then right again back to St Mary’s.

 

 

 

© Eileen Earnshaw 21st April 2020

Stars, Eileen Earnshaw

Stars.

 

I am plasma, light, heat,

 

A glowing rotating binary,

 

stellar behemoth, suffused with appetite,

 

illuminating night with violent explosion.

 

 

I, am the beginning of your imaginings.

 

Hopes talisman, keeper of dreams,

 

repository of stories told,

 

indicator of seasons.

 

I bear the burden of your religions,

 

have shown you the way,

 

been your guide, mentor.

 

I am a part of you, and you of me.

 

We are magic, we are star.

 

 

 

 

 

© Eileen Earnshaw Summer 2012.