We Are The Poets, The Miners Of Gold
we go deeper
into
a long tunnel
we look like
miners
with lights in
our foreheads
we are looking
for nuggets
of gold
it is damp and
cold and dark
there and
we may die
there
when the earth
caves us
in
we can be eaten
with what we
are feeding.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bright Lights
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
As the world is round, the road is long
Ive trouble on my mind
Ill just keep on moving
Until the day comes round
The wind a blowing on my back
And my feet a flying
Flying down the road
Where the bright lights shine
Mondays in a pigtown
Tuesdays in a truck
Wednesdays a field of mud
And thursdays out of luck
Fridays rain clouds
Saturday flies by
Sunday comes shining
From a blue blue sky
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some towns are golden
Some towns are stained
Some towns are shadows
Fading in the rain
Some towns are rust
And some towns they gleam
Some towns are mad dogs
Some towns are a dream
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some dreams are hollow
Some dreams are cold
Some dreams are crazy
And some dreams are bold
Some dreams are bought
And other dreams are sold
Some dreams lie waiting
At the end of the road
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Goal Of Poetry
it is simply to reach
out to people
with our verbal hands
these mental arms
and make them
look
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
d eeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeperdeeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
too, within
themselves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chile's Miracle
CHILE'S MIRACLE
Miners thirty three, descended the mine,
In the Chilean Atacama desert at San Jose,
To fetch copper and gold so fine,
And to the occasion they happily rose.
In the bowels of the earth 700 metres below,
Lo! They were pinned half a mile underground,
And a rock of 70000 tonne gave them a blow,
Crashing on their tunnel with a huge sound.
The tunnel bore the brunt and kept them alive,
They were utterly scared; it was humid and hot;
On one half a spoon of salmon they did survive,
In the dark, only their helmet lights were their lot.
Despair and anguish gripped the men to pine,
They were trapped in a dark dank space;
Seventeen days passed on with no sign
Of contact with the world and human race.
In their desolate bleak cloud of isolation,
There came a streak of silver lining;
A tube they espied with tablets of dehydration,
Protein and high -calorie food for their dining.
Hope bloomed in the miners' hearts,
They endured days -on with solidarity,
The measly food were their delicious tarts,
They waited with fortitude and equanimity,
Up above, the entire world was in piquancy,
And an array of international talent played,
The Chilean Govt: , NASA, Japan's Space Agency,
And other companies, score, with them stayed.
The rescuers were in a hard torturous fix,
As expertise converged for the complex rescue,
It was a narrow twisting escape shaft-the Phoenix_
Painted as the Chilean flag, red, white and blue.
"Miners of Chile"_the refrain continuously echoed,
The world watched with bated breath, the cage,
Secular prayers from every country showed,
That the world was one large Global village.
The evacuation started- descended the capsule,
Kith and kin awaited in ‘Camp Hope"dazzled
Down there, the miners were calm and cool,
But on top, the mood was with nerves frazzled.
One by one the miners were arduously lifted,
Through the phoenix- like the bird's re-birth;
Taking 48 hours for all of them to be gifted,
Oh! The joy knew no bounds at their re-birth.
The last man Luis Urzua came up from hell,
The leader, who kept the miners all to-gether;
Not only the man who bore the ordeal well,
But the one who superbly coped with the weather.
The whole world with euphoria heaved a sigh,
As all the miners were safe and sound -back,
This ‘rescue mission' had indeed relieved, high,
Thanks to modern day technology's track!
This episode elaborates with magnificence,
How very dear and precious human lives are,
The Chilean Premier spent with munificence,
Subtly ventilating an end to terrorism and war.
Triumph of a never-say-die sprit, pure,
Designates this unique incident, so heartening;
Prayers to the Almighty are answered for sure,
Where all hearts in unison are imploring.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Guardian of the Pit
He'd worked at the pit since he was ten,
Was quite at home in the dark,
Worked by the light of a miner's lamp
Avoided the slightest spark,
He chipped away at the face of coal,
He chewed tobacco, and spat,
His face was black as he wandered home
With pride in his miner's hat.
But the mine had closed as it petered out
And the miners went on the dole,
While Jack Coltrane had fretted at home
For his work was his very soul,
The entrance tunnels were sealed up tight
And the Colliery wheel was stopped,
It sat like an aging dinosaur
Set high on its wooden props.
The miners drifted away for work
The walls of the houses cracked,
The doors and windows were boarded up
The only one left was Jack,
He wandered lonely about the streets
Of the place he had always known,
The empty terraces, vacant shops
In the town that he'd called his home.
I'd gone to squat in an empty house
I was down on my luck back then,
And Jack had knocked on my nailed up door,
I told him my name was Ben,
He'd pop around for a morning tea
And he'd tell me tales of the mine,
His eyes would gleam with excitement when
He talked of the dust and grime.
‘I'll take you there, and show you the pit.'
He knew I'd never been down,
‘What else is to do in a place like this, '
He said, and I must have frowned.
‘There's nothing to worry about, old son,
Just wrap up well for the cold,
It used to be hot in the workings then,
But we'll be looking for gold.'
He said he knew where the traces were,
He'd seen it a thousand times,
‘The owners only wanted the coal
So we left the rest behind,
There's not a lot, but enough for us,
We'll chip out a tidy sum.'
That's all I needed to know, I went
And put some old denims on.
The mine was scary for one like me
Who'd never been down a pit,
So dark and damp, and the air was still,
I hated the smell of it,
We need to go down 300 feet
He said, not batting an eye,
I trudged along in his wake, and thinking:
‘Why did I come - Oh why? '
We saw the first few traces of gold
At the thirty fathom mark,
But Jack said, ‘Still there's a way to go, '
And he trudged along in the dark,
We walked around the falls from the roof
Where the props had given way,
It was far too late to be turning back
Though I felt a mute dismay.
Suddenly there was a gleam ahead
Lit up by our feeble lamps,
And Jack had hurried ahead to check
What gleamed in the rising damp,
Behind a fall I could see a sight
That will haunt me ‘til I'm old,
A skeleton lay in the passageway,
A skeleton covered in gold.
‘He must have been here a hundred years, '
Said Jack, ‘and there is the proof,
The fall has only revealed him now
The gold has leached from the roof,
It's covered this poor old-timer's bones
He's worth more now that he's dead, '
But then the end of the tunnel glowed
And a voice boomed in my head.
‘Who desecrates my dominions,
Who approaches me in their pride?
You come to my underground kingdom
Where another before you died! '
The voice came up through a hole in the ground
That glowed like a fire was lit,
‘Retreat, or I'll tear you asunder,
I'm the Guardian of the Pit! '
I don't know how we got out that day
We stumbled and ran to hide,
We thought the demon was at our heels
As we caught at our breath, and cried,
We fell out into the open air
And breathed again at the last,
I said, ‘I'll never go down again! '
Jack said, ‘It must have been gas! '
‘It must have been just a pocket of gas
That we breathed, that knocked us out,
It was just a hallucination
That's for sure, ' said Jack, ‘No doubt! '
But he never went down the mine again,
He said he was 'over it',
But truth to tell, he was scared as hell
Of the Guardian of the Pit!
21 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Dark As A Dungeon
Come and listen you fellows
So young and do fine
And seek not your fortune
In the dark, dreary mines
It will form as a habit
Seep in your soul
til the blood in your veins
Runs as black as the coal
Theres many a man
That Ive known in my day
Who lived just to labor
His whole life away
Like a fiend with his dope
And a drunkard his wine
A man will have lust for
The lure of the mine
Its dark as a dungeon
Damp as the dew
The danger is double
And the pleasures are few
Where the rain never falls
Where the sun never shines
Its dark as a dungeon
Way down in the mine
I hope when Im gone
And the ages shall roll
My body will blacken
And turn into coal
Then Ill look out the door
Of my heavenly home
And Ill pity the miners
A-diggin my bones
Its dark as a dungeon
Damp as the dew
The danger is double
And the pleasures are few
Where the rain never falls
Where the sun never shines
Its dark as a dungeon
Way down in the mine
Where the rain never falls
Where the sun never shines
Its dark as a dungeon
Way down in the mine
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Forest Inside
once i went inside the forest
it was like a cave of trees
the labyrinths are many
islands and slits of lights
drizzles of rain from up high
it is gray world
cold, damp, and very silent
as though
it is the first day of the earth
and i were the first man
created.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hole
A friend of mine bought himself a shovel
Said im gonna tunnel me a mine
He set out to be a rich man
Happiness is what he thought hed fine
Got in to deep to see the diamond
Down to dark to see the gold
Now he wont let go of the shovel
And he cant dig out of the hole
Deeper and deeper hes going down
Driving his future right into the ground
He thinks hes closer the further he goes
But hes still on the bottom
And he cant dig out of the hole
I tried to throw the man a life line
I tried to send him down a rope
I dont think he hears me calling
But everyday I pray and hope
Somehow he finally gets the message
Every spade of dirt he throws
Only gets him closer to the devil
And he cant dig out of the hole
Repeat chorus:
Maybe we could learn a little lesson
Maybe thisll shine a little light
Cause theirs no healthy way to mess with
The line between wrong and right
Use the one chance youve been given
Cause once your in the ground and cold
Its too late to start livin?
You see you cant dig out of the hole
Repeat chorus:
Its hell on the bottom
And you cant dig out of the hole
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Good Earth
When I was a child and the road was dark and the way was long and alone,
My heart would lift as I turned the bend and saw the lights of home.
Now high above in a silent sky,
In a still and starry space,
A man looks down on the earth below,
And that blue and green and shining glow,
To him is the lights of home.
Its the good earth, yes the good earth.
Its a land of sun and rain and snow,
And mulberry trees and mistletoe,
And burning plains and raging seas,
And sunday morning taking your ease,
Watching your children grow.
Its the good earth, yes the good earth,
Where we fought and loved and killed and died,
And ruined and ravished the countryside,
But now, from a million miles away,
From another world thats cold and gray,
Someone is able to look and say,
Thats the good earth.
So isnt it time we stopped the tears?
Weve lived together for thousands of years,
And whether Im wrong, and whether youre right,
Whether youre black, and whether Im white,
One day well stand on the edge of the world,
And someone will ask us the land of our birth,
And well look into his eyes and quietly say:
Its the good earth, yes the good earth.
Why cant we be good on the good earth?
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pretty in Placerville
Hands are made for grasping
Gold, dust in brown canvass bags, nuggets
For teeth impressions.
Dust trails lead in and out
Of toil and thirst. The thirst for
Gold, soul of the merciless mine.
The gold is mine.
My fingers are worn short
From rolling in the abrasives;
My lips made thin by kissing
The sun come down to earth.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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What Drives You To The End
tears of pain and sorrow continue to fall for what seems forever
no hope of light or happiness can be seen in the distance
only the endless cutting into the heart till it is split open
little possibility of removing the cold sharp knife that cuts on
then light starts forming cracks in the endless tunnel walls
only enough light to leak hope into the dark soul but
not enough to light the tunnel so that it's possible for sight
more and more light leaks into the soal and the pain disapates
warmth and happines fills the body and soal till nothing else matters
then the shadows sneak up while there is nothing blocking it anymore
evil and darkness surrounds the light and blocks it from the sole
the light withdraws back into the cracks and leaves only darkness
darkness that fills the soal and rips up all that is good and continues
the endless dripping pain the pain that reveals that the dark tunnel will
continue on forever a choice is made and the knife is thrust deeper till
all is still and the bleeding stops all together all of it stops forever
poem by Sabrina Helphrey
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Victims Of The Search For Excellence..
the eyes are always
the innocent victims of
this search....
the minds are tunnels
searching for more light...
the hands are the miners
digging for nuggets
the fingers are the slave
drivers....
the quest is always an
anonymous mistress...
the finding is not a thing
it is a manual for another journey...
the diary at the end is a blank page
there is no word which says...END.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dark Swords of the Night
Won by the forces of nature
Sealed law of banished future
History repeats itself
At some point, you feel control over yourself
A solution reveals itself to limelight
Because every tunnel has a light
If thou walkest past into the night
Deeper and deeper your sorrows might
As you come across painful savors you knoweth not it's sight
Thrusting thyself into the sharpened dark swords of the night
Where the growls of regrets becomes terrifying
But Thou hath giveth choices to thee
Chooseth you the Light or the dark swords of the night?
poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo
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Tunnel Of Love
Fat man sitting on a little stool
Takes the money from my hand while his eyes take a walk all over you
Hands me the ticket smiles and whispers good luck
Cuddle up angel cuddle up my little dove
Well ride down baby into this tunnel of love
I can feel the soft silk of your blouse
And them soft thrills in our little fun house
Then the lights go out and its just the three of us
You me and all that stuff were so scared of
Gotta ride down baby into this tunnel of love
Theres a crazy mirror showing us both in 5-d
Im laughing at you youre laughing at me
Theres a room of shadows that gets so dark brother
Its easy for two people to lose each other in this tunnel of love
It ought to be easy ought to be simple enough
Man meets woman and they fall in love
But the house is haunted and the ride gets rough
And youve got to learn to live with what you cant rise above if you want to ride on down in through this tunnel of love
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deeper Denizens
The gaze of a monster arrives tonight in the dark,
It sees us forming its eyes on us so bright in the dark.
Once the monsters of the deep linger forever now,
The nightmares are downright a fight in the dark.
Its monumental how deeper vaults intrude and master,
Once we enter them under the crystallite in the dark.
The caves are immediately in front of us, around us,
Then are we lost so differently to cite, in the dark?
Girls and boys question and murder our paths,
The children are never lost, but we are to excite in the dark.
Paths of godly fabrication are everywhere in our layers of adventure,
The harsh realities are mine, the adventure of dynamite in the dark.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Nuggets Of History
Watching the tide slowly recede,
wondering what treasures it left behind.
What little nuggets of history
it has left lying on the shore.
Walking along the damp sand,
you look for something
that might just catch your eye.
A rare coin from a distant era
lost in a shipwreck somewhere.
A slice of someone’s life
from a long gone past,
or it could be an old bowl
someone had eaten from.
Now its fragments have washed ashore
and lay in front of you.
A token given back from the sea
in place of lives it stole.
You may find these and many more
if you walk along a quiet shore
just as the sea recedes
to carry on it journey once more.
Roaming restlessly
on this earth, it calls its home.
22 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Springhill Mining Disaster
Bono: like to...Id like to try a song that I think weve only played once before, so. this is a city that a...a lot of irish people came to this city, right? so this time...this irish...t
Irish people came as rock and roll band, okay? so...but this is a folk song. its like...the irish kinda hold america in a very special place because, for over a hundred years or more, irish have come over here to find work and find a future. and they brouught with them songs, old irish folk songs that became old american folk songs. and, I hope maybe wed leave behind some songs one day. this is a song written by peggy seeger. its a song...i wished Id heard this song on the raidio during the miners strike in england a few years ago. this is called springhill mining disaster.
In the town of springhill nova scotia
Down in the dark of the cumberland mine
Theres blood on the coal, and the miners lie
In roads that never saw sun or sky
Roads--
Bono: shut up for a second, will you? stop whistling cause Im not in the beatles, okay? its u2 here.
In the town of springhill
They dont sleep easy
Often the earth will tremble and roll
When the earth is restless
Miners die
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Listen to the shouts of the black faced miner
Listen to the call of the rescue team
We have no water, light or bread
So were living on songs and hope instead
Living on songs and hope instead
In the town of springhill nova scotia
Down in the dark of the cumberland mine
Theres blood on the coal, and the miners lie
In roads that never saw sun or sky
Roads that never saw sun nor sky
In the town of springhill
Dont sleep easy
Often the earth will tremble and roll
When the earth is restless
Miners die
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bono: thanks for your patience. thank you.
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snowdrops
Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.
I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring--
afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy
in the raw wind of the new world.
poem by Louise Gluck
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The Lover's Chronicles
what we look for is something deeper
than what we call love... if love is
the taste, we long for the substance.
we run afraid of the dark towards the
neon lights... but we long for chocolate,
for broth, for fruit, for just baked
bread. we hear the rumor of ecstasy,
but we settle for the numbness of not
being alone... for we fear ourselves,
and what is behind the door! we jump
into bed and pant against the cold,
never even getting close to the fire.
we settle for sex, we barter for sex,
using sex like a drug, mere children
sailing on a plastic globe. we are
afraid to touch, we take off our clothes,
but are afraid of being naked. afraid
of the stillness, we talk, we chatter...
like bones rattled by the wind, or the
window we latch. but the darkness calls,
the candle is lit. in the depths of
human, we long to be lovers!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Winter Song (From, Lost Song Poems)
There's outside a winter's song
With frore and grayish earth,
We had the summer for so long
For what each day was worth;
I'll long for summer and spring
Each time the night gets cold,
When weather hollowly will sing
In winter so frosty and bold.
A flower so gracefully done
The winter's rose in my window,
I'll greet you gladly on and on
Cherish your pearl white afterglow;
I've often been in a moody down
When darker the short day comes,
Then I see frosty rose jewel crown
And know in the cold it blooms.
Winter romance and candle lights
Longing for green sweet earth,
Longing for clearings sky bright
And all what the day young's worth;
How can it touch the morning flame
The winter that's gray and dark,
Will not each color be there same
Without its golden morning spark.
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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On The Same Day I Was So Happy
ON THE SAME DAY I WAS SO HAPPY
On the same day I have been so happy
Deep Loneliness comes in the night -
A dark dark cold cold world comes
And I feel more all alone
Than in a long time-
Our worlds inside are endlessly changing moods and minds-
I now am so alone
And anxious
And afraid also-
And I was so so happy today
So so happy in the morning
Far far
From the cold cold dark dark dark night
poem by Shalom Freedman
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