Uttoxeter was and is a wild and wonderful place. It was my childhood playground. Uttoxeter, my old home town, deserves a poem to call its own.
Uttoxeter
Uttoxeter’s
a first won kiss
Uttoxeter’s
a memory missed
Uttoxeter’s
a woman wild
Uttoxeter’s
a feral child
Uttoxeter’s
a drunken fool
Uttoxeter’s
an old cold pool
Uttoxeter’s
a market slide
Uttoxeter’s
a fight of pride
Uttoxeter’s
an ancient place
Uttoxeter’s
an untold race
Uttoxeter’s
a bully boy
Uttoxeter’s
a long lost toy
Uttoxeter’s
a once wine bar
Uttoxeter’s
a pub, The Star
Uttoxeter’s
a burning flame
Uttoxeter’s
an endless game
Uttoxeter’s
A loving duck
Uttoxeter’s
Don’t give a cluck
Uttoxeter’s
an Adam Peaty
Uttoxeter’s
a herbal sweety
Uttoxeter’s
a meadow Shane
Uttoxeter’s
an off-ground train
Uttoxeter’s
A gypsy clan
Uttoxeter’s
Bare-knuckled man
Uttoxeter’s
A flattered fly
Uttoxeter’s
A spider’s sigh
Uttoxeter’s
A summer lake
Uttoxeter’s
A funfair wake
Uttoxeter’s
A bonfire night
Uttoxeter’s
A sledging site
Uttoxeter’s
A slide and swing
Uttoxeter’s
A strangest thing
Uttoxeter’s
A hidden key
Uttoxeter
Is You and Me
Mark Bird
