I've been reading William Mayne and Alan Garner recently...two brilliant writers who have an amazing sense of place, language, dialect...of the old places in England...brick layers, farm communities, coal miners, storytellers...of the old ways...
It whar a lar larky whimble
Shrouded ten brick high wandin' sor-west
Table roun' drinkin por soppy
An da flies dancin' himmel
Bar up da korner
Shadow shack gon
Livered shy round blister bent
Up da bedpost an bye
Dreamin
Blundergone.
Denis Streeter 8/20/10
What a great poem, Denis! You've created a whole new language here! Even though the individual words have no definite meaning, the poem, in some strange way, does! I like it! That's why I've used FIVE exclamation marks in this comment!
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