
NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 5
Another shift ended,
We rise from dark to dark,
Men filling the air,
With Hyena barks.
Coal cutters still,
Joint showers done,
Pasties eaten,
To home we run.
But it’s hard to run,
With two broken legs,
No home tonight,
Straight to hospital bed.
Standing at my parent’s door,
A friend with missive bad.
Portal ajar, it now reveals,
The terror known as my dad.
“I’ve got bad news”.
“There’s been an accident.”
A hush falls upon our step.
Terror stands there in silence.
“Is he alive?” was all he asked,
Keith nodded and said no more.
Neither did my flinchless dad,
Just turned and shut the door.
PS This is a totally tue story!
Some poems dig deeper and this one did that. For unknown reason, it reminded me of ‘In Flanders Fields by John McCrae’.
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Having just read that poem I’m not sure how to accept being associated with such company – but thank you
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Wow, Graham…you retold the story beautifully. Can only imagine how scary it must have been at the time.
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Thanks Smitha, it was a very Dickensian time for sure
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A powerful poem, Graham, and harrowing to read. Mining disasters are still in my memory from childhood.
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Thanks Kim, they are never far from my mind
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The end hits hard. I flinched at the honesty of the piece. The title is so powerful. Also, the poem puts me in mind of the film ‘ How green was my Valley’.
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That is a film well ingrained in me, a tad over-romaticised at times but a fabulous piece of film of its time. Thank you for your time and comments.
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That line, “the terror that was my dad” really stabbed me in the heart. I cannot even fathom growing up in such a family.
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It wasn’t that bad, but thank you
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My Grandpa was a miner, and until the very last day he went under, I know my Gran lived with the fear he wouldn’t be coming back. This poem resonates with me deeply. (I loved sitting by the dining room table, listening to him retell stories of his times and adventures down under).
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Hi Dawn, thanks for sharing that. I’ve been surprised and delighted with the amount of mining connections that have sprung up.
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