Men of coal
By hedgehog1
- 780 reads
Miners live and die above a seam of coal
Where houses disgorge dark acrid smoke
Into the very veins of their humanity
Dry and bent from endless years of toil
Where every breath is patiently taken
Hardened men that ask for nothing
These weary broken bodies sleep soundly
Their very tomorrows will mirror their todays
Shadows radiate from overhead slag heaps
Treading their way on hoof worn tracks
Where bleating sheep sink their teeth
Into bent and bitter thistle clogged grass
They labour, dawn to dusk to live and die
Hewing black coal drams from mother earth
That sucks the very marrow from their bones
Feathering cash registers for their Masters
These mining men born lean and hungry
Toil in the cold steel confines of the mine
A bell rings another day of mining survival
Winding wheel cages rise two thousand feet
To disgorge them back into deep black night
A world of hypnotic nothing in a landscape
Where their lives are just a flickering fabric
On black window panes waiting for tomorrow
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Comments
Nice to see you back!
Nice to see you back!
This seems so long ago, but not so very long really. And I suppose still so in some parts of the world.
There was often good cameraderie in all the weary harsh labour often, wasn't there – reflected in the male voice choirs? Rhiannon
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Your excellent poem delves
Your excellent poem delves deep into the miner's dark dangerous, back-breaking toil
My thoughts are with the miners and their families in the Dombass region of Donetsk in Ukraine. They have a hard life.
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Clear images
of the murk in landscape and lungs.
Best
Lxx
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