The worker
Beads of sweat
Molten steel
And as yet
Redundancy looms
In boiling air
A lifetimes graft
Spent boyhood there.
The old mills steel
Built many ships
For both world wars
Now history shifts
Private owners
Profit rules
Loyalty retired
With idle tools.
Imports close
Manufacturers base
We make so little
A bitter taste
Left to fester
Length of land
A proud workforce
In dole queues stand.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: June 22nd, 2026 03:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 59
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, ms.divine, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
I like the style of this poem as it tells its story in such short bursts. Nicely rhymed and with a rapid flow it is a fave
thanking you, much appreciated as always
You are most welcome Norman
We are navigating a world with the former/older OS that they keep scrapping and upgrading while keeping the majority out of the loop. 🕊️🙏
spot on, thanks for read much appreciated
I thought it was gonna be about the closure of the bus stop! heehee. Or was that years ago?!
i wish they would take the shelter away, its like my second home, even paying council tax I spend so much time there lol
lol
Great write ✍🏼
most kind thanking you always much appreciated
Norman, what stayed with me most was the contrast between what once was and what remains. You can feel the pride in the work, the effort, the contribution...and then the emptiness that follows when all of that is set aside. Beautifully done, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
most kind my friend. always much appreciated
Such true words Norman, those in power just do not care for people any more.
#As an aside I was a metallurgist in a foundry many years ago.
Andy
glad it touched home with you, much appreciated read, thanking you
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