I ham a Poet and eye did not know it. March 2015.

The Friends of Bradford Beck are involved in creating fifteen Plaques around the City centre which will be situated over the top of the Beck as you walk around, each Plaque will have a line from a Poem on it, the lines of Poetry came from a competition where there were 29 entries.

 I entered this Poem but did not win anything, but to me it is the fact that I entered  was a Feather in my Cap.

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I wrote it for Plaque nine.

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Yon Cuckoo Bridge is bright and clear,

around the bend I approach it near.

But underneath I do not go,

for it is elsewhere my waters flow.

Taking with me the Muck and Grime,

I have gone this route since the start of time.

Human Beings try to re-direct my way,

"call it Broadford Beck" I hear them say.

Into me flows Bowling Beck,

it's a small Stream without a brek.

Fish I have, but only a few,

for they no like the stuff from the Flue.

One day they will cover me over,

into the Darkness I will then descend.

But only until I get around the bend.

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The Picture underneath is Cuckoo Bridge which went over Bowling Beck which flowed into Bradford Beck near Bridge Street.

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