By Janelle Kimmet

Oh, River Clyde, your waters deep and wide,
you glimmer bright beneath the morning sun,
but carry grief along your shifting tide,
A burden heavy, though ignored by some.
you saw the rise of Glasgow’s wealth and trade,
yet knew the truth beneath each polished stone laid.
The cost of every fortune that was made,
paid far from here, in lives we’ll never own.
Beneath your waves, a history concealed,
of stolen hands whose suffering stayed sealed.

Ships launched with pride upon your mighty flow,
their hulls packed tight with sugar, cloth, and woe,
but hidden in their cargo’s gleaming glow
were profits steeped in human tears and pain.
Your waters bore the weight of misery,
the chains of others fueling industry
a silent witness to hypocrisy—
Where riches bloomed, yet freedom paid the price.
Though now you shine with calm and steady grace,
you still reflect that long-forgotten face.

The hammers rang, the shipyards roared with might,
The Clyde surged forward, unbroken by their toil.
But wealth though bright could never shed the blight,
of blood spilled far away on foreign soil,
you flowed, unyielding all the same,
carrying dreams, but shadowed by the past.
The city grew, the merchants built their name,
while distant voices echoed in your cast.
Your tides run deep, still whisper as they go
of those whose names we’ll never truly know.

Today, your surface gleams with gentler hues,
and few who stroll your banks can hear the song—
The silent truth of lives once made to lose,
whose labour kept you so fierce and strong.
Oh, River Clyde, your water sees it still,
the past that shaped the life upon your shore.
No tide can turn, no wave can cleanse the call
of those voice silenced, forced to fall.
You are both strength and sorrow intertwined.
A river vast with memories enshrined.

Those Names - Poem