Butlers Bridge

They closed the line and shut the station
Built a better road too, straight and true
And left the bridge a gaping maw
Staring across its former fields,
Yellow riot of prickly gorse
Ivy strained sadness of Ulster stone



Above,
below,
vacant
Cats eyes
dimmed and dead

No more the knee-grazed grip, eyes peering above
The toe-scuffed hold on the edge of the world
“ DAD ! DAD ! the train’s coming ! “

No more this rushing, gushing bullet of life
Steamed stuffed with children’s seaside dreams

No more the lovers lane secrete
Screen seamed nights of brambled
Tangled passion.

No more the etched stone pledge
would scar its face
“ Johnnie 4 Mary “ heart enlaced

No more the hum of the riders rim
No more clip plop of the pony and trap
No more stick step of the spinster spurned
No more moss tears fell from her face

Stone
Cold
Silent

Copyright © 2009 O Derry Boy
Photo supplied by Roger Lennox
First appeared in Atonal Poetry Review, US (Jan 2010)

Historical note: The Beeching Axe
(Thanks to Elizabeth from Flackwell Writers for pointing out the historical context.