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Adrian G R Scott

Adrian G R Scott

poetry photography guiding

poet photographer guide

The Dark Tar River
Waterfall in Rivelin

In Praise of Wandering 

As walking is still an option for most of us in lockdown here is a piece in praise of traipsing around.

Prologue to a Traipsing

I stand, conduit with the flowing

road that runs down from Stanage,

out of the mass-trespassed moors.

Above Ringinglow I watch as the

dark tar river issues into wet yet

rapidly sun-burnished Sheffield.


I stand, conduit, to expectancy,

of a wandering, a gritty itinerancy,

tramping the damp road, mirroring

the flow of my near sixty years,

the city filling my wind glossed sight

ready to enter an unsteady future.


I stand, conduit at a confluence,

the deep seams of ore and ire,

my history in factory shutting Sheffield

and Maltby, striking pit, pounded,

distant in time and view from here,

moribund hinterland to steel’s grave.


I stand, conduit to uncertainty

boxed in by old streets echoing,

seeking a way to walk the city,

to write the pages of present days,

pad blank with unknowing, a loosener

for tongues tied up by being ignored.


I stand, conduit to make a start,

more than a maudlin requiem,

or a sad and mawkish oration,

well packed with an ear-shine

of listening, walking on to meet

the newly arrived and the left behind.


I stand, conduit to a troubled hope,

in search of the sliders who slip

between marrow and bone, those

whose viscous honesty and

anarchic incursions rupture all

that tight-limbed electoral thinking.


I stand, conduit to these first steps,

to tread the valley riven streets with

fresh boots, the peak’s rain whetting

my resolve to walk a poetry of traipsing,

to write a flow of treading; to transcribe

tough, the unalloyed lines of a retold city.


a poet’s faith – thoughts from the rivelin valley

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