Temple Works Poem.
Fair enough, I'm no Shelley, but as far as I recall he never had to earn a living or scribble his poems in between boring meetings. This little effort was done over a couple a lunchtimes. It's obviously a sonnet based on Ozymandias; I've duplicated Shelley's tricky rhyme scheme and tried to match something of his rhythm . . . but I'd agree it's rather more Iambic Pentamatuerish then the great Romantic's verse. Still, I don't think it's a bad effort considering. I've posted a few pics just to make more sense to people who aren't familiar with the building. The idea for the poem came to me the other day as I was chatting to a friend about the plans for Temple Works in Holbeck. I'm going to a show around in a couple of hours organised by Emma from CultureVultures, and hope to get a better idea of what is going to be done with the place. I'm very attached to the building; my grandparents lived around the corner, my parents got married in the local church, and my dad and uncle drink in the pub next door. I grew up with this place as a massive part of my imagination and it's been gutting to watch what's happened to it over the past decade or so. I've got some pretty vague ideas how I'd like to see things develop, so I'll wait and see. I have my fingers crossed though. The plans I've heard about so far are marvelous.
Here's the poem typed; my handwriting's shocking.
A piece of Egypt under Yorkshire cloud,
its fanciful facade of millstone grit
had no other purpose but to stand proud
and tell of Holbeck peoples craft and wit
back when the place meant something to the world;
But now there's columns toppled, windows wrecked,
concrete crackled by clumps of weeds; signs of nigh
on a decades indifference and neglect
Beside the entrance, one sad little word,
"Reality!" Well, it's not worked! let's try
Imagination! It might sound absurd
to trust a process full of fits and starts
and risky failures; but don't be deterred;
this Mill should be a Temple of the arts.
