Saddleworth Moor

Status: Finished

Saddleworth Moor

Status: Finished

This content is spam! Only visible to super-moderators.
Saddleworth Moor

Poem by: Irwinagain

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Poem by: Irwinagain

Details

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

The Moors murders were carried out by Ian Brady and Myra Hindley between July 1963 and October 1965, in and around what is now Greater Manchester, England. The victims were five children aged between 10 and 17—Pauline Reade, John Kilbride, Keith Bennett, Lesley Ann Downey and Edward Evans—at least four of whom were sexually assaulted. The murders are so named because two of the victims were discovered in graves dug on Saddleworth Moor, with a third grave also being discovered there in 1987, over 20 years after Brady and Hindley's trial in 1966. The body of a fourth victim, Keith Bennett, is also suspected to be buried there, but despite repeated searches it remains undiscovered.

Summary

The Moors murders were carried out by Ian Brady and Myra Hindley between July 1963 and October 1965, in and around what is now Greater Manchester, England. The victims were five children aged between 10 and 17—Pauline Reade, John Kilbride, Keith Bennett, Lesley Ann Downey and Edward Evans—at least four of whom were sexually assaulted. The murders are so named because two of the victims were discovered in graves dug on Saddleworth Moor, with a third grave also being discovered there in 1987, over 20 years after Brady and Hindley's trial in 1966. The body of a fourth victim, Keith Bennett, is also suspected to be buried there, but despite repeated searches it remains undiscovered.

Content

Submitted: June 03, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: June 03, 2012

A A A

A A A


A colourless landscape
Unfriendly, cold and grey
As if waiting for life itself
To be infused

The sudden wind and rain
Spatters against the grass
Which stubbornly survives
When all else seems to fail

There is great sorrow here
Difficult to define
But real enough to feel
As if the land had died

And dying was full of
Self pity and remorse
Shamed by the secrets kept
Beneath its close-cropped turf

The wind catches your breath
And sad eyes, half-closed, blink
The rain tastes of the sea
And you curse the crippled land

As sadness overwhelms
Shadows embrace the sky
In darkness you strain to catch
A child’s distant cry


© Copyright 2016 Irwinagain. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar
avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

Irwinagain is a member of:

Share This: