My great-grandfather was a coal miner, who worked in Pennsylvania mines when carts were pulled by mules and mines were lit by candles. Mining was very dangerous work then.
quote by Tim Murphy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Despise The Mines
One despises the narrow ways,
Immense bags of weary mines
Conjoin with miniature stones,
And death instigates hollow nature.
Clearly we saw death as high,
In the coke mines, the coal mines
Of straight nature, a scenery of time.
To drive some melodic event
On oneself terminates the small masses.
This factory puny, that factory mad and screeching,
We are shadows of the same train.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Mining For Coal
(Matraca Berg/Ronnie Samoset)
I've searched the world over all of my life
Just looking for something
To make my love shine
Like a candle that burns in the night
But I came up with nothing
Till I looked in your eyes
Deeper and deeper inside
And all of the treasures
I found in your soul
Was like finding a diamond
When you're mining for coal
I've been a fool for glitter and gold
And women that sparkle shiny and cold
Like a statue carved out of ice
They shimmer like tinsel
On a blue Christmas night
But they never were quite so bright
As all of the treasures
That loving you holds
It's like finding a diamond
When you're mining for coal
I was a miner
And you were a rock in the dust
But you became flawless
When you were you polished by love
And when I found you
I lost all control
I found me a diamond
Just mining for coal
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's a business. If I could make more money down in the zinc mines I'd be mining zinc.
quote by Roger Maris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Look Now
Who will take the coal from the mine?
Who will take the salt from the earth?
Who'll take a leaf and grow it to a tree?
Don't look now, it ain't you or me.
Who will work the field with his hands?
Who will put his back to the plough?
Who'll take the mountain and give it to the sea?
Don't look now, it ain't you or me.
Chorus:
Don't look now, someone's done your starvin';
Don't look now, someone's done your prayin' too.
Who will make the shoes for your feet?
Who will make the clothes that you wear?
Who'll take the promise that you don't have to keep?
Don't look now, it ain't you or me.
Chorus
Who will take the coal from the mines?
Who will take the salt from the earth?
Who'll take the promise that you don't have to keep?
Don't look now, it ain't you or me.
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Don't Look Now) It Ain't You Or Me
Who will take the coal from the mine?
Who will take the salt from the earth?
Who'll take a leaf and grow it to a tree?
Don't Look Now, it ain't you or me.
Who will work the field with his hands?
Who will put his back to the plough?
Who'll take the mountain and give it to the sea?
Don't Look Now, it ain't you or me.
CHORUS:
Don't Look Now, someone's done your starvin';
Don't Look Now, someone's done your prayin' too.
Who will make the shoes for your feet?
Who will make the clothes that you wear?
Who'll take the promise that you don't have to keep?
Don't Look Now, it ain't you or me.
CHORUS
Who will take the coal from the mines?
Who will take the salt from the earth?
Who'll take the promise that you don't have to keep?
Don't Look Now, it ain't you or me
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes
Sometimes I don't know what to do with myself.
Sometimes i want to be alone.
Sometimes I feel like I should push you away.
Just to see if you would go.
Sometimes I want you to leave
just to see if you like it more away...
Sometimes I wanna tell you everything,
but I don't want you to judge me.
Sometimes I wanna hold your hand,
but I'm scared you'll let mines go.
Sometimes I wanna tell you how much I like you..
But I'm afraid you wouldn't wanna know.
Sometimes I wanna treat you good,
but I'm afraid you'd take advantage,
sometimes I wanna give you all of me,
But I don't think you want the challenge
Sometimes I want you to be mines,
but I think you'd be better with someone else.
Sometimes I need you more then ever,
but I'm afraid to ask for help.
Sometimes I wanna call your phone,
but I'm afraid that you'd be busy.
Sometimes I wish you'd walk past,
but I'd assume that you'd just miss me.
Sometimes I wanna run to you
But I'm scared I wouldn't find you
Sometimes I wanna kiss you
But are you really mines to?
Sometimes I want you to believe in me
But I'm scared you'll doubt me
Sometimes I want you to stay
But I don't think you care about me.
poem by Vanessa Mercado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Then there was the whole concept of coal mining, which is a culture unto itself, the most dangerous occupation in the world, and which draws and develops a certain kind of man.
quote by Martin C. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am
i am, become...
i worked your steel mills,
i walked the i-beams of your scrapers.
i dug deep in your coal mines,
i plowed your fields, picked your crops...
i picked your cotton, milked your cows,
worked your furniture factories,
in your cotton mills...
built your tracks, rode your trains,
popped your trucks, poured your concrete...
my sweat and blood, the foundation,
the nails in the wall!
i an America, the common,
and the magnificent...
i am the pulse, the breath, the beat.
i am the lover, the fighter, the dreamer...
i am the father, and the mother...
i am the sinner and the holy.
i am the truth, at all costs.
i am the man behind the wheel,
the dream behind the man...
the faith behind the dream...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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All the fascination of King Solomon's Mines seems to be behind those great mountains and this I may add is a bit of advance work for mother, an entering wedge to my disappearing from sight for years and years in the Congo.
quote by Richard H. Davis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I would much prefer to be a judge than a coal miner because of the absence of falling coal.
quote by Peter Cook
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Isn't this what happiness is supposed to feel like?
Running to my happy place
The closest place to 'home'
Life so filled w/ misery
The only thing I've known
So here I am
just you and I
As I take the final strike
Isn't this what happiness is supposed to feel like?
I don't want no one to know our secrete
I won't tell a soul
I'll hide it all
They'll never see it
So now here I go
I give you all of me
& what do I get in return?
Happiness, pure happiness
It's finally my turn
I don't wan't any evidence
No one can see the proof
No one's allowed to know about
what happens between me and you
They'll take you
Imitate you
Try to have you to themselves
But you're mines
only mines..
My only escape from hell
I just don't know how to thank you
I don't know how you learned
I run to you EVERY time
You give me what I deserve
The pain is just so perfect
I control it all
I smile as I watch you
work your way down my arm
Slices here
Slices there
every slice so right
Isn't this what happiness is supposed to feel like?
poem by Vanessa Mercado
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Blue Bridge
Praise the good-tempered summer
and the red cardinal
that jumps
like a hot coal off the track.
Praise the heavy leaves,
heroines of green, frosted
with silver. Praise the litter
of torn paper, mulch
and sticks, the spiny holly,
its scarlet land mines.
Praise the black snake that whips
and shudders its way across my path
and the lane where grandmother
and grandfather walked, arms
around each other's waists
next to such a river, below
a blue bridge about to be
crossed by a train.
In the last gasp
of August, they erase the time
it might be now, whispering
into the darkness that passed,
blue plumes of smoke and cicada,
eager and doomed.
Submitted by Nola Garrett
poem by Geraldine Connolly
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No One Should Ever Silence You
People are probably are getting tired of it
Ready to tell me to shut hell up
But they just don't get it.
The message must reach
It must be heard
Even If sounds quite absurd
Let my passion fill the pages
Let it carry out the answers
To diabolic equations
Let it be sensation
To the hearts and mines of those who know of love
To the hearts and mines of those are down on their luck.
Your not the only one
They're a million of us.
Each screaming.
Of the harsh reality in which we are living.
Get angry for we should not be so forgiving
If this only reaches one person
Then I have accomplished my mission.
Know you can speak too.
No one should ever silence you.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Missing Cravat
When flurries in the gloomy sky
I am still awake and inquisitive?
Your pinkish-mauve silky scarf
Blown in the wind and safely landed
At my backyard.
But how do I know your whereabouts
To hand over if it's not a keepsake
Are you faraway or close by?
I have no proper sleep these days
Till I get your prompt response
And please do not cremate my innocent hopes
in your vast burial grounds *before the music ends?
*for Sandra Fowler!
[ I listen your precious poems in the CD where Ihab Badrun reads in his deep voice; 'A hymn to Frost' (for my grandfather who started work in the coal mines of West Virginia when he's twelve years old,) I feel a teardropp in my eye? ]
[I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases each time it was a different story.]
Quoted from Edith Wharton's lovely novel 'Ethan Frome'
Ethan Frome a heartfelt humanity that can still resonate across the years to the reader of today.
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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21 - Victorian Poverty
A period of extreme poverty of the lower working classes
As they worked to the death the rich sat politely on their arses
London’s poor tried to scrape a living doing jobs the devil created
As the rich sat at their windows laughing at the pitiful souls they hated
The poor would have sooner died than enter the poor houses control
As it was not fit to harbor a single living human soul
Small boys were used to clean narrow sooted chimneys
While in the coal mines children worked on their hands and knees
Although this golden age pioneered many useful inventions
Children privileged to go to school were whipped instead of detentions
And as the poor worked for a life at every waking hour
The rich covered their stench with perfume and wild flowers
The poor had nothing and hardly anything to eat
While the rich enjoyed tea and honey and sherbet lemon sweets
In Victorian London the poor just lived and died
The rich never really noticed the rich never really cried
A period of extreme poverty of the lower working classes
As they worked to the death the rich sat politely on their asses
poem by Nicola Burkett
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Bitter Harvest for Friend Corey
The seeds of death are planted by
men reckless of the consequence
They’re meant to kill the enemy.
But they can destroy innocence.
The warring factions have moved on.
Survivors try to till their land
convinced they’re safe that dangers gone.
They simply do not understand.
Land mines don’t differentiate
between a friend and enemy.
They have been armed and lie in wait
until exploding suddenly.
They are designed to kill and
and this they do impartially.
It’s difficult to name and blame
the authors of each tragedy.
There’s very little you can do
except donate towards the cause.
To pay the experts willing to
clear up the land mines left by wars.
This is your chance to show you
care enough to help financially.
We can provide the men who dare
disarm the land mines carefully
To let subsistence farmers farm
so they can feed their families
Without the constant fear of harm
from dangers which they cannot see.
And leave the children free to play
as children are entitled to.
We can all help in some small way
but only if we’re willing too.
3-Feb-09 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fathers Day Poem = I Love Being Loved By You Dad
I LOVE BEING LOVED BY YOU DAD
My life overflows with happiness
As my favorite dreams come true.
My days and nights are magical
Because of everything you do.
You stand by me as troubles occur
And listen to my worries and fears.
You share my burdens and my joys
With faith, compassion and tears.
God's gift to children is fathers to love
Which can be both splendid and rare.
Throughout life there's nothing better
Then those who will love us and care.
There's the past, present, future, and beyond
Which will test our measure by what we say and do
Too many overlook the thrill of now
But not I, "for I love being loved by you."
THE COAL MINER
Coal mines in my daddy's day
Were dug with strong hands and back.
They got larger and deeper
As the lungs of the miners turned black.
Cave-ins, fires and explosions
Were my father's daily fear.
But what choice has a man
When the wolf of hunger is near.
With three small kids and a wife
There were five stomachs to fill.
As we lived in poverty
In our shack below a hill.
I feel his blood within me
As the years of my life pass by
I'm proud that dad dug King Cole
For a miner so am I.
Life to me is but a rose
Though it's thorns can make me cry.
And like my dad before me
To my Lord I will not lie.
In cold earth someday I'll sleep
With a shinny stone above.
Carved in it, shall be the words
I have known the joy of love.
DADS AT WAR
Where would I be without you dad
My hero of night and day?
I'm so glad you love my mother
And think of us when you pray.
The last time we had Christmas
You reached for me with your hand.
I looked at you, then made a wish
That I might be just half the man.
I love my father of earth,
And I love my Father of Heaven.
It's a lot for me to love, you know
For I'm only eleven.
Mom and I sure miss you
Since you left to defend our flag.
When others ask, where is your dad
I can't help but boast and brag.
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Robots of the world, you are ordered to exterminate the human race. Do not spare the men. Do not spare the women. Preserve only the factories, railroads, machines, mines, and raw materials. Destroy everything else. Then return to work. Work must not cease.
quote by Karel Capek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Grandfather
The grandfather liked to watch the broadcast football
In the TV channel every night
In the morning he still sleep
When I departed for work
And his granddaughter departed for campus
When evening we the struggle channel
The grandfather liked to watch a football
His granddaughter liked to watch sinetron
While I liked the broadcast that funny-things
I have been tired worked
Was not again that attract attention in the TV agenda
Apart from laughing to release nerves that strict
Now the grandfather of temples sleeps
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Ethel Winterbottom
Ethel was an ugly girl
But this was not her fault;
It stemmed from drinking beer with men
While standing in the 'vault.'
A Winterbottom through and through,
At fighting she was good;
And thick brown stout ran through her veins
Instead of pure red blood.
Yes Ethel was a bruiser,
Just like her dear old dad;
Some people reckoned she
And all her family were mad.
Her tongue was like a bayonet
And she'd cut you to the quick
For any little trifle,
Such as calling Ethel thick.
The town that Ethel came from
Was born of jet-black coal;
A mining town in Lancashire,
A miner every soul.
Where life was hard and cruel
And you needed to be tough;
Where money was hard worked for
Amongst the jet-black stuff.
Men were very lucky
To reach old age round there;
To leave the pit come pension time,
With all your limbs, was rare.
Now Ethel had three sisters,
A father and a brother;
But living hard, and thick brown stout
Had taken Ethel's mother.
She'd had to grow up quickly
And learn to stand her ground;
No funny business was allowed
When Ethel was around.
She gave her brothers blow for blow
And curse for curse as well;
No man would better Ethel
Yes, she gave the miners hell.
But now the lass was getting on
And weary of life's fights,
The daily grind among the coal,
The long and drunken nights.
No one had ever told her
This didn't have to be;
Now Ethel's in the graveyard,
But beautiful and free.
Written Jan 1996
poem by John Carter Brown
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