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Dave Hall
Enough
So, just take a walk,
What you see, you see,
No need for overwhelming significance
Look at the sunlight on the wall,
It's an old wall,
This is a cathedral city after all,
But leave it at that.
Watch the smooth drop of the weir.
The way that boat, anchored, seem;
To be endlessly drifting back.
Look at the swans.
Why do they seem
So sullen and rebarbative?
They seem so.
They are so.
That's that.
Listen to the brass band.
Mellow, distant,
But a trifle unctuous?
No. No. No.
None of that.
Lean back on the bench
Stretch your legs.
Follow the shape of clouds
For as long as it suits you,
But don't try
To put those dreamy,
Shifting archipelagos into words;
Enough of that.
Chester Canal at Dawn in Full Moonlight
The leaves were confetti on the ground from the marriage of Summer and Autumn;
It was as lonely as death, I looked up at the moon for a friendly face.
In the west the moon still shone, but in the east the shy pink of morning showed.
Deep, secret, ancient world of the canal, like a vein in the body of the city
Moving slowly to the lock and the sea-heart, leaden in the shadow, quicksilver in the moonlight,
Past scabrous sandstone to the Bridge of Sighs (how did they feel those prisoners trooping mournfully across)
The Eastern sky deepened to coral, the stars faded, the moon still shone in its milky collar,
A cawing crow flew, startled from the trees, across the ice-blue sky.
How odd it must have looked
towering above a town of peasant huts.
And all that glass: each window a tall tale
to teach the illiterate mass
how to live a good life.
Today the place is full of tourists:
jet-lagged Japanese experiencing the visit
with a congregation of bemused camcorders,
while their tour guide talks of stonemasons
and the urgent need for renovation.
I have no lofty reason to be here –
I’m just sheltering from a sudden shower.
The sun beaming through the stained glass
tells me all I need to know –
the rain has stopped so I can go
Margaret Lane
A Cestrian from birth, my love of history was instilled at a very early age, walking the City Walls and enjoying many trips to the Grosvenor Museum.
Chester
Ancient City standing on the River Dee,
With many tales to tell of history.
Its great Cathedral taking pride of place
Encircled in the Roman Walls’ embrace.
Streets lined with buildings, left and right
With leaded glass, and timbers black and white,
The River Dee flows swiftly, ever near,
Churning as it flows across the weir.
Across the years, throughout the mists of time
Lie tales of passion, bravery and crime;
Of Roman soldiers keeping lonely guard,
Or Knights in armour in the jousting yard;
The King, who stood upon the City Wall
And sadly watched his loyal army fall.
Chester – City ancient and renowned,
Held in high regard for miles around.
The River Dee
Memories come flooding back as I walk along the Dee
Of me when I was younger and dancing around the tree
My sister holding hands with my mum and dad
I think back to then and feel quite sad
But many a happy hour was spent by the river
With a cool wind blowing to make me shiver
Happy days as well, when the sun shone bright
When even the ducks forgot to fight
They waddled along with babies following
And we sat and watched them, cheeks a glowing.
We sat on stone steps and removed our coats
So happy were we watching the boats
Then along came the Mark Twain, waves lap ashore
I love those boats so swift so sure
For many years they have travelled up and down
Their captains sure of the way, no need to frown
The band strikes up and I shed a tear
Remembering dad who first brought me here
I find a café and order coffee and toast
Two lads go by in their rowing boat
Across the river lived grandma and grandad
All long gone - it makes me quite sad
Remembering the parties we had every year
Singing around the piano and had my first beer
Those two boats are still in my dreams
But I'm getting older now, or so it seems
arthritis has struck and I can't walk far
But when I meet the man of my dreams and follow that star
My dreams will come true for I'll marry on that boat.
Can't sit too long where's my coat?
The Jewel of Cheshire
There's not a playground better
Than the retail delights of Chester
With its covered two-tier Rows
Galleries full of distinctive emporia bows
Chester never fails to really amaze
With an array of astonishing attractions
And a unique midday proclamation
By the town Crier who can really phrase
Ladies like to come to the racecourse
'Dressed to Impress'
And after in Grosvenor hotel of course
To be wined and dined like empresses
Chester celebrates the 1100th anniversary
Of St Werburgh the patron saint of the city
She was a beautiful Mercian princess
Who became the Cathedral abbess
Eastgate Street , the jubilee clock, the river Dee
Legionaries' displays in amphitheatre's combat gladiatorial
The history of Deva just makes Chester so special
I can't think of anywhere I would rather be.
Bill Newham
Last summer, my wife and I spent a Sunday in Chester and on or return, I couldn’t resist the urge to express the pleasure of the day in words.
A summer Sunday by the Dee,
It’s calming waters drifting by,
Can set all troubled spirits free
Beneath a blue and tranquil sky.
Old Chester city’s Roman wall
Is backdrop to the Sunday scene,
That conjures history to enthral
Of ancient peoples who have been.
Lazily drooping willow trees
With wispy branches silver green,
Enhance an atmosphere of ease
As by the waters edge they lean.
The snow white swans all radiant,
Gracefully preening as they glide,
Are so serene and elegant,
Whilst paddling feet below they hide.
While rowers pulling on their oars
Propel the river boats along,
The watching people on the shores
Just sit relaxing in the sun.
Some cautious children with delight,
Feed ducks and pigeons close to hand,
Until the birds take sudden flight
When play is struck up by the band.
All kinds of folk just ambling by
From simple pleasure they derive,
For cares and woes to pacify
And feel so good to be alive.
Andrew Rudd
The Romans came and dealt a single card
beside the river, drilling into line
a grid of narrow streets. Later, a shrine:
the city spread out wider, dropped its guard,
soared upwards. In a crowded bay of lights
a stately gothic ship has run aground.
So what do you think you’ll get for your four pounds?
Sandstone, intricate carvings, dizzy heights,
stories annealed in glass, a thousand years
of arches, columns, potted history,
an unexpected sense of mystery?
One in a thousand pauses, listens, hears
the heart still beating, beating, an unknown
bird in this enormous cage of stone.
Chester
Is suddenly on or off as seen from space
But from nightlight
And evening song
Heard from the belfry’s height
From the old Cathedral of stature
Creeps the gradual acquiescence
Of the city’s engine room
Which seems to spread with longing
Across arterial routes
And out to suburbs and country houses
Charting evening’s progress
Time away from the no rest
Of meeting rooms and counter pests
Away to the night time
Night time, nightlife
All is still and quiet down by the river Dee
Under Handbridge bridge
The causeway overhead
The Weir makes its presence known
A gentle plunging in the gloam
In the park behind; a fine soil of loam
Gives rises to the gigantic shadows of large leafed plants
And the wind also gives notice to itself
By causing a gentle swaying
A soothing waylaying of people not safely home
Who roamed
Instead of following the safe and arterial routes to their tombstones
Where they’d be safe
In Handbridge graveyard
With a nice inscription
From some friendly stonemason
Above their heads
So sadly dead
Before they could acquiesce
To be becalmed by the wind instead
Sitting out
In the meadows
By sunrise, sunset
Night or noon
The rhythms of the city so near
With the fear of bucolic darkness so close
Does the moon mean anything
Does the sun seem like anything
Are the stars the only judges of similarity
Like Venus in the river
So cold
So alive
So old
Just like the city from Roman times
Flows on like the Dee
From source to sea
Unlocks the key
Of a spontaneous performance in the amphitheatre for free
Only birth before sunrise
Around the age of 20 appears about midday
Middle age around the time of tea
Death after sunset
Followed by wonder at midnight
It’s such a strange light
I just can’t make out those autumnal shadows
That sit on the Dee waiting to burst forth in fill vigour
With the clearing of the morning mist
It’s such a strange sight
Roses shrouded in early morning dew
Climbing in Chester park
Where later the sun will open them up
To the red of the sandstone walls which surround them
Signifying the blood of the fortress
The aquamarine blue of the Dee below them speckled with white spray blown by the wind
Signifying the rhythmic flow of city life over generations
The sky is light blue, fading to white near the sun
Which seems to represent the penetration of space for the first time
Like in 1957
And then in 1969
The farthest frontier
Was expanded to the moon
Yet the place which can really tell us most about the city
Is the city at night
An illusion, a fantasy, a place that mightn’t exist at all, a kaleidoscope of bright lights
If the good times have switched your mind
Off not on
Then go to sleep
Following the arterial routes
Home
Out of Chester
Alone
From a city so keen
So lean
So mean
But in some ways like
A crown of thorns
The jewels of a queen
Chester by night has to be seen
Chester at Christmas
All along Watergate,
Eastgate and North,
brighter than a starry sky,
the lights blaze forth.
Chester is alive now, all along the Rows.
The shops are all singing
with the ringing of the tills;
people are bustling in a busy throng,
spending their money till the money's all gone.
Come and visit Chester now it's Christmas-time
Children march with lanterns
that they've made by hand;
carol singers' voices
rise above the band.
Chester is alive now all along the Rows.
The new Christmas market is in full flow,
crafts and food from Europe all on show.
This year a Frost fair is coming to the Zoo
with skating on the ice-rink and story-telling too.
Come and visit Chester now it's Christmas time.
See the Mill chimney
where Father Christmas climbs.
Hear, from the Cathedral,
the midnight bells chime.
All along Watergate,
Eastgate and North,
brighter than a starry sky
the lights blaze forth.
Chester is alive now all along the Rows.
This poem was put together by:
Tessa Barr, Caroline McGrath, Dave Hill, Margaret Renner, Veronica Herd, Michelle Pugh, Susan Carson, Gaynor Jones, Dorothea Carroll and Angela Moss.
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