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The Old Coach Road; a poem

May 20, 2018 06:11PM
Having been doing a lot of researching, bits of this had been floating around in my head, so I sat down and wrote it. I was intending it to be a sonnet, but it had more to say. I finished with a pair of alexandrines anyway because it felt right.



The old coach road

The old coach road cannot be seen
Beneath the metalled tarmac sweep.
You would not know where it had been
Beneath the new road, buried deep.

Where once wound leafy, narrow track
Six lanes of thundering death now steer
Where rumbling wheels, and whip’s sharp crack
Were once the loudest sounds to hear.

The cars flash by in ready haste
The coachmen never dreamed such speed!
However fast they may have paced
In rolling coach with foaming steed.

The plexiglass monstrosity
Called ‘the old tolbooth’ lets us know
That travel did not come for free
And all must pay the pike somehow.

When traffic stills in dead of night
Can you still hear the ‘yard of tin’?
The guard’s tantivvy blown with might
To warn the gate, or coaching inn.

And through the night in endless cantered pace
The mailcoach runs forever its long race.
SubjectAuthorPosted

The Old Coach Road; a poem

Sarah WaldockMay 20, 2018 06:11PM

Re: The Old Coach Road; a poem

LilyMay 23, 2018 04:10PM

Re: careful ...

Sarah WaldockMay 23, 2018 05:00PM

Re: The Old Coach Road; a poem

Agnes BeatrixMay 21, 2018 09:14PM



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