This may not be news to some (or most) of you readers, but in researching the history of Poulton I found out that in the 1970’s a complete skeleton of a 12,000 year old elk was found whilst they were digging up the ground to build a new house on Blackpool Old Road. So what, you say? Well apparently this elk creature had hunting barbs stuck in its leg bones. This means human hunter gatherers had lived around our little lands since around 10,000 BC! In that news I dismiss the 40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s ect. We had cavemen darting around the lands we tread foot on once! Poulton is extra vintage! Poulton has a lot more depth than I thought. I had no idea how far back civilization had touched it. Now I think about it, it does echo of its past.
So I wrote a poem.
In these concrete lands that boast of the old,
And skies that spit weather of unspeakable cold,
Echoes memories of ages that have left burning embers
Of fire in the hearts of folk, and earth that remembers,
People who thought that instant mash was glorious,
And the invention of glittery flared pants was most notorious,
Thatched homes that saw women in big rippling dresses
With polite rosy faces and long bundled tresses,
And earth that once vibrated with the trembling chase,
Of predator and prey and the distinct lacking grace,
Of an old pattern of the earth and the simple deal,
Of life or death.