Slubbers Lane
Dust devils skirl scrubbed steps
of cottages in Slubbers Row
skins spinning fingers
of worn out women
with red raw elbows
pinches tweedy faces of children
from half waking sleep
brass chimes tinkle
in the porches of t' bosses
tuneful as a ring
of cracked citadel bells
or the clatter of tankards
in the Drunken Slubber's Arms
a tattered wind
born of Pennine hills
and heather moor
lifts the skirts
of the pot-man's daughter Lettie Lee
she no better than she ought-a-be
ministering to the Minister's son
up against the Prims of Zion's walls.
Author notes
Author notes
While driving around West Yorkshire I saw a street with the name Slubbers Lane. As part of some other research I came across what Slubbers means- it was (of course) to do with the textiles and weaving industry , and was the process where strands carded wool (or other fibre) was twisted together prior to spinning. It was often done by children until the invention of the Slubbing Billy (around the time of the spinning Jenny) which was operated by men who tended to be rough , assisted by young children who worked from 5 in the morning until 7 at night.
Other reference 'Prims' - Primitive Methodists.
What did you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Nice job on this one. I liked the imagery. It is enhanced by the language chosen. I cannot pick a favorite part. I liked the whole poem. Very well done.
Mike
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was gonna say
reads yorkshire...
love the lingo (not just because i live here, but it fits)
you paint exquisitely with words
anyone could see it
even if they had never been there
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What struck me most as I read this wonderfully evocative poem was how difficult it was to read the lines fluently, and that seems entirely fitting given the subject matter. There is one exception and that is the line, 'she no better than she ought-a-be'
but even in that one can hear a hard, unforgiving attitude. You write of real people and raw happenings and that makes your work especially convining.
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crisp, red like brick, but crystal clear
with a vague intention of fog
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And then a poem was born...
I love when a name follows us around and it won't go away till it sees itself progress into a poem. What a great word too; Slubbers. The first stanza was just a linguistic delight to verbalize; great alliteration. So glad you posted, I've missed reading your work.
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Oh wow I love this, it paints such a story of this street and the times, it's strong like a movie in my mind.
C
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hence prim and proper like all good methodists!! - i was christened a methodist lololol
i love your stories, they breathe life across the hills and spring into the waters of all counties...
this is one of your best luv...
northern grit..
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Your poem shows a hard place, where people would have to be hard to endure. The imagery is great, all in tune with the subject (tweedy faces is wonderful) and the stanza of sounds was arresting. I enjoy the life of the final stanza, reassured it will go on!
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