Saddleworth Moor

This poem is rather dark and morbid for a Sunday morning, but I have been thinking about it for a long time. I was reminded of it by a recent article I read about Saddleworth Moor and recalled the impact the moors murderers, Brady and Hindley, had on me as a child – the personification of bogeymen and monsters.


Dark Pennine peaks

Hold their secrets close

Refuse to surrender the burial place

Of a lost child on the moor

A long way from my home

It chilled me to the bone

A different kind of famous five

Bad dreams in sixties black and white

The details were kept quiet

Hidden from my innocent eyes

Behind sensational headlines

And hushed voices on the BBC

Sadistic killers of the utmost depravity

Strolling hand in hand

On the windy knolls

Of Saddleworth Moor


© Kim M. Russell, 2016

Saddleworth Moor

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