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I Walk, This Day, This Haunted Land

I walk, this day, this haunted land
(not far off Mancunian city walls)
'neath my feet sprawls peaty sand ~
Overhead as evening falls,
The ghostly voice of children's calls.

This land, taciturn, calm and still,
A sombre place to garner thought;
A meditation of past ill ~
All the anguish time has brought ~
The mighty horrors, ever fraught.

Evoking days of deadly deeds,
Wicked sins of heretofore;
The ghostly voice of innocence pleads
You salute what happened, evermore,
Here in nineteen sixty four.

Infant souls, half concealed,
Ne'er forgotten over time;
Three were found below this field
Buried under peat and lime ~
Reposing midst the moorland grime.

He walks, this day, this haunted land
(not far off Mancunia's city near)
He romps with others hand in hand ~
But spare a thought and weep a tear
For a lonely boy who still lies here.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Last few words: 
One or two of us seem to be focusing on poems themed on 'the moors' at the moment so I offer my humble contribution based on a true series of events between 1963 & 1965. Serial killers Ian Brady and Myra Hindley murdered five people in nearby Manchester (Mancunia), all under 18 years old. During this time four of them, all children, were buried on moorland a couple of miles away from my home. Two were discovered in 1964 and a third in 1987. The fourth young soul, Keith Bennett, still reposes out on the moor somewhere. I spend time out there often, a place now tainted with sadness.
Editing stage: 


see how you have inspired us? Second from last line typo? should that be thought?
As always you write to perfection. This poem has a sad but dreamy quality

Let your mercy spill on all those
burning hearts in hell( L.Cohen)

one day Chrys. I will correct this directly. I though(t) that I had writ it right but alas no. Thanks for putting me right in my write.

Critique is a compliment
Kind regards, Alan

author comment

Your writing style always intrigues this old Yank whose brain had been fried by the blazing Arizona sun. But now I wish I had seen your spelling error--just as a reminder that Alan is human after all, lol. Your poem deals with "Murder most foul" and is especially striking since it deals with the murder of minors. The moors hold many unresolved mysteries. I still have relatives living in Denmark, and they had told me of peat bodies and such, going back a thousand years or so. Maybe I should collect my thoughts on one of those tales and post it--but not today. As expected, your poem is flawless, and I'm really at a loss-- Should I simply resort to nitpicking? No, that's not my style. Nice work, much liked. Jerry

I got lost on the moors following the trail of the murderer. You bring it to [life]? Very somber and solemn. Fitting to a night of mist on the moor. Nothing to crit. as the one little bitsy mistake has been corrected. ~ Geezer.

Come to Chat on the Darkside
every other Saturday night 8pm to ?
Bring your dark and delicious work
to show.

really geezer. Especially as it happened so close to my home. It was a really big deal for such a small place at the time.
Thanks for calling in and saying a few words.

Critique is a compliment
Kind regards, Alan

author comment

Just the single word imparts a sense of foreboding. I have but 2 suggestions : Try" The voice of ghostly children's calls"; and "buried beneath peat and lime"

Thanks for your kind words. As the night falls across the moorland it becomes a thought evoking place. A WW.2 B17 US Airforce plane wreck still lies four miles out from my home. RIP your fellow countrymen.

I appreciate your suggestions and I have, as you recommend, tried them.

The 'ghostly voice' (of children's calls) is also used as a refrain in stanza 3 at, more or less, mid-poem. If I change stanza 1 the refrain would become forfeit. As it is the same 'ghostly voice' heard in both stanzas I must retain the strict phrasing.

To use 'beneath' in place of 'under' in stanza 4, L4, I would, I think, also have to include the word 'the' ~ Buried beneath the peat and lime' ~ adding an extra syllable to line 4. The fourth line syllable count in each stanza cannot exceed the count of the third line if I am to retain the pacing. This is one of the difficulties of strict rhyme, I find.

It is, though, most thoughtful of you to offer your expertise towards the enhancement of the piece and, as always, your ideas are so very welcome.

Looking forward to chatting with you soon (Don't forget c. lynn brooks' chat party Tuesday/Friday folks!)

Critique is a compliment
Kind regards, Alan

author comment

Any suggestion I give is as always just a suggestion. As such I hardly expect anybody to change a poem verbatim just to please me lol. But if even getting an author to give their own poem more thought then I'm a happy camper....Now you have Me thinking of moors and even thinking about a poem about moors myself lol

To look over their work Stan. It is surprising how much you can improve your poem on the strength of other folks commenting. That is the treasure of Neopoet.
I hope that you do consider a 'moors' poem. The moors of Scotland are a fair inspiration, more so than ours here in Yorkshire. They have Sir Walter Scott writing about them and inspired by them, and R.L. Stevenson. Hollywood has featured them for years ~ Errol Flynn, The Master of Ballantrae for one. I have visited the castle they used many times. If I were you I would make a start today, I can't wait to read it.

Critique is a compliment
Kind regards, Alan

author comment
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