Welcome to the Armstrong-Dixon Line where North East England based writer Keith Armstrong and artist Peter Dixon share their views on the world and all that surrounds it.
Expect rants, politics, poetry, history, photography and all sorts of........stuff.
for your wonderful poem 'Old Stations'. It's a truly moving piece of
work, tapping childhood nostalgia but in away that seems naturally to a
young imagination being born of the lore and physicality of the trains
and railway stations. (Noel Duffy)
Really liked that one, so descriptive, I could see it all in my mind’s eye! (Marie Little)
Wonderfully evocative, Keith. (Sid Smith)
Like it! (Pete Thompson)
It's great Keith! (Peter Common)
As ever, a lovely poem & one I can easily relate to. (Geoff Holland)
(from forthcoming book and film -
written for an exhibition at Bellingham Heritage Centre, June 2013)
I dreamt I glimpsed Jack Common on a train. He had his nose stuck in a book; the Newcastle rain seeped from his eyes. Jack looked sad and I dreamt he sleepwalked across the station bridge and staggered down The Side; he’d had a drink, and couldn’t believe the things he saw. He bowled along the corridors through Milburn House and stalked the nightmare of his past; all around him fell bulldozed history and his suit shook with soot. He sensed a shallowness in the air, a city with its guts ripped out. He blinked at the scale of the new Law Courts and thought of battles the workers lost: Sons of the Battleaxe, bands of brass.
The Tyne slid by him and his big heart swelled with the agony of years; a great history swilling in his veins and the banks of the river cleansed for millionaires. We live in hope I would suppose but how many games must we Geordies lose? Jack looked down at his shredded roots and felt his home city shudder with pain. It was the ache of the starving in an age of plenty, the shudder of a rudderless future: the Johnny Riddle trickle of the lonely Ouseburn running down the drain.