Tuesday 21 March 2017

To The People...



Hewer and Drags-man,
Driller, loader, barrow-man and breaker,
Farrier and sparks,
(The only sparks made welcome underground)
Chippy and blacksmith,
Bands-man, timberer,
Banksman, hurrier,
Putter and pick-man…
Fuelers of progress,
Of light,
Of heat,
Of…
The nation and its possibilities.

Danger down there, it’s said, and comradeship,
Told by the very tongues that tasted coal,
That were irrigated by spit-polished
Lozenges of it, that heaved kibbles full
From face to surface.
There’s testimony
Of wives who would turn their faces towards
The headstock and wonder about rock falls
And the striking of rogue sparks and blue flames.

And railwaymen who had to haul away
Truck-loads of the black tonnage from pitheads
On muscular shoulders of their locos.

And the mums and dads who shovelled the slack
And cobs across their modest hearths, or lit
The gas to feed their families, or flicked
The switch to illuminate their lives through
The mystery of electricity.

All knew then of darkness, dust and danger,
Knew there was a cost to convenience,
Knew tall, bleak-black headlines, like tombstones carved
From anthracite, when that cost was blasted
Or buried in debit columns of names.

And the owners knew the price of safety
Would have to be off-set against profit.
A wage rise subtracted from dividends,
Shorter days worked diminished their leisure,
And
That socialist devils make mischief
For idle hands. Far better, then, to press
Colliers to the coalface, their families
 Into narrow double-rows, their wages
To a minimum. Production to a
Maximum, or lock the colliery gates.

But,
Those socialist devils make mischief
For working hands, hands that cut the coal
Fuelling
Factories and mills and workshops
And foundries for
Making the munitions,
Weaving battledress, manufacturing
The instruments and rolling out the steel,
For the guns and the bombers, for soldier,
Sailor and airman, for the fitting out
Of naval vessels, tanks and landing craft
The tore the swastika from the flagpoles
Of Europe.
                                Miners did this, made it all
Happen and then could not return their pits
To the ancient Reich of the coal owners.

“For the people, by the people!” This was
Inscribed in red on to the swelling heart
Of the nation, demanded by the voice
Of the nation and grasped in the clenched fist
Of the nation.
                                Sweet, oh so very sweet
On tongues of colliers…NATIONALISATION!

For
Hewer and Drags-man,
Driller, loader, barrow-man and breaker,
Farrier and sparks,
Chippy and blacksmith,
Bands-man, timberer,
Banksman, hurrier,
Putter and pick-man…
Fuelers of progress,
Of light,
Of heat,
Of…
The nation and its possibilities.

                                                              
                                                               Dave Alton






Monday 6 March 2017

Haiku - For International Women's Day


On Sunday, 5th March, International Women’s Day was celebrated at the National Coalmining Museum. Amongst a plethora of events the resident poetry group, Coalshed Poets, invited attendees to pen a haiku.

It’s scary the unknown,
How do we look forward in hope?
Present in turmoil!
Anon

Only source of light,
It’s precious, lives depend on it
Down this deep, black hole.
Anon

Out in drizzling rain,
Almost like coal mining is a game
Against society’s gain.
Moira

Cold, wet March morning
Gathering to celebrate
Women and the mines
Tim Fellows

Driving here today
Windscreen wipers stopped working
Feeling very stressed!
Sheila Bradford.

Damp and wet
Many memories
Let’s celebrate
Richard Opasiak

On a wet March day
We women came to Caphouse
For songs and poems
Jane Loe

Cycling alone
To the end of the Pennines.
Drink? Toilet? Or both?

Clare Furness