Telling Stories
(Poem composed from
conversations with visitors to the National Coal Mining Museum on 5th
February, National Story Telling Day)
(1)
Granddad was from
Fife,
Miner all his working
days,
Mainly in Stoke,
though.
Dad escaped in a
spitfire
And I live now in
Salisbury.
(2)
“Children, whose bag’s
this,
And where is your
group leader?
That’s it, two by two.”
Crocodile slouching
its way
To the coach in neat
order.
(3)
Thirteen’s old enough
For the joinery shop:
Time served and
ready.
When the kids came,
where’s the brass?
From rip saw then to
ripper.
(4)
Saturday scrum-halves,
From pit props to
prop forwards,
All in the same
league.
Come Monday, under
the sports’ field,
Players back at their
tackle.
(5)
My brothers went
down,
Dad, of course, and
my uncles.
I went to college.
Gran gave me ten bob
each week,
“Just ‘til you’re
working.” she’d say.
Dave Alton
(Coalshed Poet)
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