Happy Muslim Mama: Poem: Martin Newall – Anthem For Essex

We live in the area between the city of London and the county of Essex and as a family love the coutryside of Kent and Essex in summer. Strawberry-picking, boot sales, country drives, the seaside and farm shops and markets are all things I am looking forward to this year (the fresh air also seems to give the little ones a good appetite and help them sleep better). I just love the poem below, it sums up my county very nicely and I just love the rythm of it.Anthem For EssexTilty, Wimbish, Stebbing, ShoplandChipping Ongar, IngatestoneAll the market towns and hamlets

On the rivers Crouch or Colne

West of Walton, east of EastonShellow Bowells to HanningfieldLondon ‘s bread-bin, lungs and love-nestBeaches, birdland, wood and wealdEssex – seaxes, sheaves and shield.Here the horsemen met for racingHere the highwaymen were hungHere the painter saw the skylineHere the tide would poke its tongueIn among the samphire saltings

While the sun set sea alight

Here the smugglers moved the malmseyUp the creek in dead of nightCustoms cutter out of sight.Saucy , sexy, seaside EssexDriest place in British IslesWhere the robbers took retirementWhen the Sweeney shut the filesHome of rock and naughty rhythmsPirates, Paramounts and ProculHarum, Hotrods, Ian DuryDr Feelgood – they were localWith Lee Brilleaux on lead vocal.

Epic Essex , best for bike-ridesLiberally laced with lanesPubs to punctuate the pedallingFlower-baskets hung on chainsCoastal Essex – secret riversHeron-haunted waterlandWhere the silver light in autumn Lingers for a sarabandOn the shingle and the sand.Here are tales of long-dead writers,Ghostly bikers, missing planes

Council gardens, scrapyards, thatches

Cricket matches seen from trainsYellow fields in dazzled springtimeVarnished by a Van Gogh skyBlind the copses and the spinneysWhere the rooks are building highAnd the world goes skating byWhere the weather-boarded cottageWaits in moddy monochromeNestling with new commuters And the future coming homeEnvious London , stuck in trafficSimmering its quiet desiresSenses Essex spanning endlessHazier than orchard firesOut beyond those distant spiresMartin Newall

(p.s. all these are real pics of Essex)