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) (
Online) - Published: June 22nd, 2026 03:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Online)
Comments1
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
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