John Berry Poems

This title was the description given to a ramble described in the Liverpool Echo circa 1955. The phrase haunts me; I gladly acknowledge its source and thank the Echo for the many rambles it offered to the local populace so many years ago with its ‘Rambles Round Merseyside’ feature.
I don’t know how to describe this piece; it isn’t poetry yet its format is not that of true prose, and I hope it is seen as poetic. It is very personal to our own experience yet something we wish to share.

Wirral is not a tourist spot, yet it is beautiful. This just scratches its surface, yet it is so small that too many visitors would spoil its magic. Whatever this piece can be described as, I hope you will enjoy it.
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The Dee here mentioned is the river which flows out of North Wales in a large curve and travels, via Chester to the sea into Liverpool Bay. For many years it has caused severe problems for traffic from the North into North Wales, all of which had to cross it by a small blue-painted bridge at Queensferry. A new bridge has been built which bypasses the old, with fine approach roads. Traffic is now speeded up much to the relief of all road users. But there is more to this than convenience; it is a bridge of great beauty with suspended roadway each side of an inverted Y tower giving the appearance of an enormous harp. Given that this is a major entry point into Wales, that the national instrument of Wales is the Harp, and Wales’ well deserved reputation as a musical nation, it seemed to me that the ‘Welsh Harp Bridge’ had to be its name – but no. Some Civil Servant without a shred of imagination called it ‘The Flint Bridge’.

Here beside the Dee, separating Welsh hills and Wirral countryside
See the sparkle of air-frost spangle sparse-clad winter trees;
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Never two days alike as I stare out across the river's mouth;
marsh grasses wave and shimmer as a warm wind blows in from the south;
wind turbines spin where one-time lay the hazy, mystic Point of Air.
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