Deep
in the dark, deep in the dark,
Cast-by
machines lie interred,
Forsaken,
alone and silent,
But
once a year they are stirred.
The
Shadowmancer works by night
With
shadow staff who have been
Forming
portals that let him move
Shadow
to shadow unseen.
Machines
are sleeping underground,
Up
above machines are still,
Primed
for mechanical motion
Come
The Shadowmancer’s will.
Then
the Halloween moon wakes them,
They
start up heavy and slow,
Lumbering
on to the surface
From
the labyrinth below.
The
mining museum’s closed
And
the visitors gone home,
It’s
when the curators leave that
The
machines begin to roam.
Flames
flare up in the Davy lamps
And
by their flickering light
There
are shadows of the machines
Moving
around the site.
The
Shadowmancer summons them
As
they come to life again,
At
Caphouse and at Hope pits they
Gather together, and
then…
Having risen out from
the earth,
Their decaying bodies
stark,
They haunt all those of
the living
Who left them down in
the dark.
They’re famished and
they’re thirsty
They’re choked with coal
dust and soil,
They’re seeking to gorge
themselves on
Electricity and oil.
The Shadowmancer has
freed them
To go where their
shadows lead,
To move around the human
world
They fed, so they can
now feed.
And woe betide anyone
who
Might try and stand in
their way,
While the machines cut
all they can
By the dawn of All
Souls’ Day,
When they must journey
together
Back down deep, deep
underground,
‘Til then, they rejoice
at midnight
And nobody hears a
sound.
The Shadowmancer quietly
Slips away while the
night’s clear,
None will know he was
ever there,
Or if he’ll return next
year.
This ballad for Hallowe’en has
been made from ideas and words supplied by the following: Daniel Orme
Mike Keeton
Pam Waites
Lauren Wood
Sally-ann Burley
Many thanks to all of you.
While the number of contributions varies from month to month, the quality does
not. The invention and imagination in the responses to the themes is always
gratifying, and October is no exception. I wish I could have used all the wonderful
images and phrases you sent, but that would have been a very long poem.
Dave Alton
Writer in Residence
National Coal Mining
Museum
Please send your ideas to: voicesinthecoalshed@gmail.com
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