Dark ink flows through trembling hands,

telling of doom in distant lands

with hate as fuel and tyranny it’s goal,

the ink seeks to blacken the brightest soul.


The sands of time blow soft through the dunes,

sullied and tarnished in darkened rooms

as eyes so black and hate stained hearts

seek to tear the very world apart


A hot wind blows across our lands as

we shield our eyes with blistering hands

but the sand is so potent that it slowly erodes

every house and building, path and road.


The ink that flows ever close behind

congealing like blood as it colours our land,

a stain that defies, no matter how hard we try

to cleanse our skin, it simply blisters and dies.


The land is dying, the crops are all sick and

we are slowly suffocating on air now so thick.

The ink has seeped through our minds, to the core,

straight into our veins and through every pore.


Devouring all we’ve come to believe,

its aim, to demand destroy and deceive.

Total control of the lives we once knew,

propaganda so thick that its sticks like glue.


The ink now flows over lock and weir,

spreading its vile and putrid fear

through village and towns across the land

with nothing and nobody left to defend.


But hush!

There in the distance is a lonesome growl

and another one, protesting the ink, oh so foul.


More and more the growl can be heard

over valleys and plains as feelings are shared.

Pounding ground beneath marching feet

as the pride is gathering; feel their heat.


The once quiet growl has become a great roar,

rattling windows from shore to shore

as a slumbering giant is roused from its sleep

from down in deep dungeons where they tried to keep.


Nothing can withstand this powerful beast,

not man or mountain or sand from the east.

Roaring loud along the streets and lanes

the lions are awake and marching again.


Pushing back the ink and its hideous odour

revealing green grass and beautiful flowers.

Back up the rivers, over lock and weir,

making their presence felt, people now cheer.


The ink has receded back over the sea’s,

never again to spread its foul deeds.


The lions roar from coastal lines,

a wall of pride that will never decline.

Britain is free and is Great once more

as the sunlight glistens on her sandy shores.



Written by Darren Scanlon, 29th May 2014

Revised 2nd May 2015.

©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.



Darren Scanlon
Darren Scanlon was born in 1965 and still lives in Lancashire in the English Northwest.

A typical 'northern lad', his ‘tell it like it is’, sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek humour and writing style have earned him 5 Star Ratings on Amazon.

His poetry, which he has been writing since the age of 16, is published on many websites including Write Here and High On Poems where he has recieved great reviews:

"We at High On Poems are blessed to have found such a treasure as you in our midst. Your poetry is thought provoking and shakes one up. You obviously are a powerful wielder of words!"

His work to date includes:

Hey Up, Matron! His debut novel which is a laugh-out-loud, roller-coaster ride through a day in the life of a NHS hospital ward from the point of view of the long-suffering patients and based on his own real-life experiences.

Broken Angel and Broken Wings. The first two books into his gritty crime/gangster thriller Danny Roberts Series.

Positively Poetic Vol’s 1, 2, 3 & 4. Four volumes into his on-going poetry collections.

A Mouse’s Tale. An illustrated children’s novel, (based on one of his own poems of the same name).

Alphabet Zoo. An illustrated children’s educational ABC book.

He is currently working on his latest novel, book 3 of Danny Roberts thriller series.

Future projects include, Way Back When, which is a comical look at childhood and how things have change, (not necessarily for the better), between the ‘now’ and back in the 1970’s when he was a lad.

Also an illustrated children’s poetry collection and another illustrated ABC book.
1 Comment
  1. […] Darren Scanlon SULLIED SANDS  […]

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