written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label Ancient Cities. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ancient Cities. Show all posts

Friday, 5 June 2026

Classical Cities

I met Steve for lunch today and promised him a short blog and a poem for this week's theme. It was a great lunch, great pizza, great talk about Rome and the Coliseum among many other things...

some of the beauty and splendour of Rome
... not so sure about the poem.

Classical Cities

The thing about cities
is that they are full of beautiful women.

High cheek lines, red velvet mouths,
white swan necks, proud breasts and slender thighs.

Auburn, black or blonde long hair
Scarves and stripes, silk and stockings.

Stylish, eye catching, head turning, beautiful women.
The older the better...

The cities that is.










Thanks for reading, Bill Allison.

Wednesday, 3 June 2026

Ancient Cities

Two of the problems when it comes to writing about ancient cities are a) what is ancient and b) what is a city. I was reading an article the other day that kept referring to Ancient Rome. Ok, Rome is definitely a city but the ancient part of it is debatable when you consider that the Rome being referred to was 2,000 years ago whilst the earliest cities (and we’ll come to them) are considered to have existed 3,000 years before that i.e. 5,000 years ago.

artist's impression of Uruk, circa 4500 BCE
Incidentally, Rome at the height of its power had over one million people in it before it collapsed in around 400 CE. The next city to have over a million in its population was London in the 19th century.

So what is ancient? Well, for the purposes of this article, as it relates to cities, I’m taking a time period where we have physical evidence and texts that the places exist.

Much of the following is taken from the World History Encyclopaedia by Joshua J. Mark published on 05 April 2014:
In the study of the ancient world a City is generally defined as a large populated urban centre of commerce and administration with a system of laws and, usually, regulated means of sanitation. This is only one definition, however, and the designation `City' can be based on such factors as the:
population of the settlement
height of buildings
density of buildings/population
presence of some kind of sewer system
level of administrative government
presence of walls and/or fortifications
geographical area of the settlement
or whether a `settlement' was called a `city' in antiquity and fits at least one of the above qualifications.

the fertile crescent
Professor George Modelski, of the University of Washington, encourages a definition based on the work of the historian Tertius Chandler (in his book Four Thousand Years of Urban Growth) which defines a city, as distinct from a village, based upon population. Modelski writes:
Adopting Chandler's means of definition, then, settlements such as Tell Brak in modern-day Syria (first founded in c. 6000 BCE) cannot be considered cities.

The city of Uruk, today considered the oldest in the world, was first settled in c. 4500 BCE and walled cities, for defence, were common by 2900 BCE throughout the region. The city of Eridu, close to Uruk, was considered the first city in the world by the Sumerians while other cities which lay claim to the title of `first city' are Byblos, Jericho, Damascus, Aleppo, Jerusalem, Sidon, Luoyang, Athens, Argos, and Varasani.

All of these cities are certainly ancient and are located in regions which have been populated from a very early date. Modelski cites the population of Uruk at 14,000 in the year 3700 BCE but 80,000 by the year 2800 BCE. I was a bit surprised by the figure of 80,000 as when I was checking I found that Carlisle has much the same population now and that seems, to me, a fairly large city.

the ruins of Uruk today
I wanted to use a poem that actually praises the city, from the ancient to the present day, as a place to live. There is a reason why people have wanted to live in them but I can’t find one that really suits my purpose so I’m going to make use of this chance which sort of works.

Ever since my school days I’ve disliked Robert Browning purely on the basis of one poem. This is a short section with a corrected title:

Up the City – Down the Villa

Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to spare,
The house for me, no doubt, were a house in the city-square;
Ah, such a life, such a life, as one leads at the window there!

Something to see, by Bacchus, something to hear, at least!
There, the whole day long, one's life is a perfect feast;
While up at a villa one lives, I maintain it, no more than a beast.

Well now, look at our villa! stuck like the horn of a bull
Just on a mountain-edge as bare as the creature's skull,
Save a mere shag of a bush with hardly a leaf to pull!
--I scratch my own, sometimes, to see if the hair's turned wool.

But the city, oh the city--the square with the houses! Why?
They are stone-faced, white as a curd, there's something to take the eye!
Houses in four straight lines, not a single front awry;
You watch who crosses and gossips, who saunters, who hurries by;
Green blinds, as a matter of course, to draw when the sun gets high;
And the shops with fanciful signs which are painted properly.

Down the Villa
Thanks for reading, Terry Q.

Tuesday, 2 June 2026

Ancient Cities -- Bedrock


Thinking of ancient cities and my lack of personal experience in the real world, took me back to childhood and my love for the cartooned world of the Flintstones. They lived in the suburban area of a stone age city called Bedrock. I would have moved in with them, anytime. I was fascinated by their household appliances and gadgets which amused me more than the storylines. I would be spellbound for the entire twenty minutes or so of each episode. This wasn’t confined to childhood. In my early 30s, I would get up at some crazy time to watch an early morning episode before travelling out of town to work. I lived alone, so no raised eyebrows or questions. Somewhere, I have a DVD. I’m shocked that my grandchildren are not the least bit interested.

I planned to visit the Holy Land in my mid-twenties. It was an organised trip, like a pilgrimage, with a group of people from the church I belonged to at the time. I looked forward to setting foot in the ancient cities and places I had heard about and grown up with from the Bible stories of Sunday School and my Christian upbringing. It couldn’t happen. My father had always been supportive and encouraging, taking an interest in my endeavours, but he was clearly unhappy about this. There was conflict in the Middle East. Israel had invaded Lebanon and the thought of me going into potential danger ‘on holiday’ was something he really didn’t want. I couldn’t let him worry himself sick, so I didn’t go.

My travels abroad haven’t taken me anywhere ancient, more modern history, like being in Virginia, USA and learning about the American Civil War. I was staying with my family who live there. Their home was close to an area where battles had taken place, which ignited my interest. One of my cousins had studied The Battle of Bull Run and we spent time in Manassas, another battlefield and home to a museum. Not an ancient city, though.

Born in Manchester, lived in Lancaster, visited Colchester and many Roman cities in the UK. Stonehenge, not a city, but ancient, as is Calanais standing stones on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. Not far from there is the village or township of Garenin, which is a collection of black houses, restored as an historical monument. No one lives there now, but some of the buildings are habitable and open for paying guests to stay for the experience. I haven’t stayed overnight, but I wouldn’t mind.

I’ve chosen Lemn Sissay’s poem about Canterbury, which I think qualifies as an ancient city.

Cantuarian

I ha’ant the time to rest at night
I hold the moon and satellite
I am the librarian of light
For Canterbury for all its might

And I roll beneath I roll
And I hold I hold I hold
And I swirl and I swirl
And waves uncurl

This Cantuarian
This latitudinarian
Carried the stones
Of the Trinitarian

In the river of the broken sword
(The failure of the knighted hoard)
In that winter – sheath unseen –
I washed it clean I washed it clean

Time and river entwine a ripple of twine
A shiver of rhyme this rhythm of mine
I carry the story out to the sea
The west wind addresses me

By bank and by bed, red and deeper
The city head the secret keeper
I bathed the uncivilised scream
I washed it clean I washed it clean

And I roll beneath I roll
And I hold I hold I hold
And I swirl and I swirl
And waves uncurl

I am the librarian of light
For Canterbury for all its might.

                               Lemn Sissay, OBE FRSL

Thanks for reading, Pam x