Coveted.
When half the world was blank on maps
and people believed in magic,
sounds became muffled as tappings
under the soil sprung up
while in the hills big holes appeared.
Folk vanished for what seemed like days
then flat mining caps
full of loot-happy dust, topping faces
of smiles shuffled off hazily
clutching large lumps of silvery seeds.
White-knuckled black fists clutched close
to ribs the dead weight
of their findings, bags of pure alchemy,
stones which changed when
kindled in home-made places of fire.
Dirt-hearths rose to unknown hot comfort
with flame keeping cold away,
gems lost beneath time became nuggets
worth more than diamonds
and in days of old saved work-worn lives.
Yes coveted then was possession of coal.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: September 25th, 2019 03:09
- Comment from author about the poem: A story of coal and its early comfort. Hope you enjoy.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: Michael Edwards
Offline)
Comments6
A fine write Fay.
Thank you Orchi.
Nice one Fay and that of course is an understatement.. not only a great poem but a history and cultural lesson rolled into one..
My Great grandfather was Captain Goss of a Cornish tin mine I'll have you know..... Have a great day
Yes I knew you had ancestors who were miners - and hey a captain was top man below - a director of work with no superiors who lived in a large house or manor................how bout that then........
blimey.....
I love your work but this surpasses - great storyline which drew me in line by line - into favs.
Wow - - humble thanks Michael - - - - I wrote a trilogy on the subject of mining and hope to post the second one soon.
Lovely the romance you have placed into this 'bringing home the coals'.
In simpler, more tragic times where actual survival to a natural death were an accomplishment in itself then coal and its comforting benefit must have been a huge plus for any social grouping. Those days before it's energy was released to power the industrial revolution.
Nowadays it's so easy to see just the negative pollutant aspect of coals. But as a lad it was one of my duties to keep the coal scuttle full and gave me the familiarity of chopping up large hunks of coal and yes the silvery gloss of a fresh cut piece along its grain. Often there would be the golden traces of what i took to be iron pyrite 'fools gold' running along the grain too.
Hey, thank you for this opportunity to recall my early coal scuttle days and cold winter evening visits to the coal shed. Mom never made me do the frosty morning duties... a tribute to motherly love.
Amazing the associated memories which come to light when you do this romantic reflections thing again Fay. Very enjoyable little daydream i entered there.
I am honoured that my work produces such nostalgic daydreaming dusk and thank you for sharing this one with us.................. your comment is an engaging poem in itself - - so pleased you enjlyed the read.
Very good write Fay, we owe them so much.
Yes we owe them a lot who worked - and still work - at coal and mineral faces under the ground dear Andy and thank you for your welcome reminder.
So realistically you bring to life a product that moved the world, and people that moved the product, in days past.
Am pleased you found the read realistic dear Suresh and thank you for the visit and encouraging comment.
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