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						A FINE MADNESS by Barry Tebb 
						
						Any poets about or bored muses fancying a day out?
  Rainy, windy, cold Leeds City Station
  Half-way through its slow chaotic transformation
  Contractors’ morning break, overalls, hard hats and harness
  Flood McDonalds where I sip my tea and try to translate Valйry.
   
  London has everything except my bardic inspiration
  I’ve only to step off the coach in Leeds and it whistles
  Its bravuras down every wind, rattles the cobbles in Kirkgate Market
  Hovers in the drunken brogue of a Dubliner in the chippie
  As we share our love of Joyce the Aire becomes the Liffey.
   
  All my three muses have abandoned me. Daisy in Asia,
  Brenda protesting outside the Royal Free, Barbara seeing clients at the C.A.B.
  Past Saltaire’s Mill, the world’s eighth wonder,
  The new electric train whisperglides on wet rails
  Past Shipley’s fairy glen and other tourist trails
  Past Kirkstall’s abandoned abbey and redundant forge
  To Grandma Wild’s in Keighley where I sit and gorge.
   
  I’ve travelled on the Haworth bus so often
  The driver chats as if I were a local
  But when the rainbow’s lightning flash
  Illumines all the valleys there’s a hush
  And every pensioner's rheumy eye is rooted
  On the gleaming horizon as its mooted
  The Bronte’s spirits make the thunder crack
  Three cloaked figures converging round the Oakworth track.
   
  Haworth in a storm is a storm indeed
  The lashing and the crashing makes the gravestones bleed
  The mashing and the bashing makes the light recede
  And on the moor top I lose my way and find it
  Half a dozen times slipping in the mud and heather
  Heather than can stand the thrust of any weather.
   
   
  Just as suddenly as it had come the storm abated
  Extremes demand those verbs so antiquated
  Archaic and abhorred and second-rated
  Yet still they stand like moorland rocks in mist
  And wait as I do till the storm has passed
  Buy postcards at the parsonage museum shop
  Sit half an hour in the tea room drying off
  And pen a word or two to my three muses
  Who after all presented their excuses
  But nonetheless the three all have their uses.						 
						
						
						
						
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