This is a fictional poem although there was a pit disaster in the Lofthouse Colliery Wakefield Yorkshire England about thirty years ago and there is a monument on the roadside at Wrenthorpe and men did die there.
Meg heard the siren and jumped to her feet.
Took her shawl from the peg and went out to meet
Women and children all walking one way
All of them silent some stopping to pray,
They reached the pit yard and grouped all around
and apart from quiet weeping, hardly a sound.
Anxious drawn faces, eyes red from tears
Hands covered mouths, stemming unspoken fears.
Bustling officials tried to bring hope
if the worst thing had happened, how would they cope?
A terrible tragedy at the coal mine that day
a tunnel collapsing blocking the way.
Thirty men trapped there do they have air?
The rescuers toil, with bare hands they tear
Mountains of coal that's blocking their path
Send down machinery,' they shout in their wrath.
Poor Megs husband and two sons were trapped.
The pain on her face was so vividly mapped.
At the front of the crowd then someone did shout
they heard some tapping without any doubt
'They must be alive; oh they must be all right.'
For hour upon hour they stood through the night
Good neighbours came brought flasks of tea.
Took home the bairns so they wouldn't see
the scene unfold in the cold light of dawn.
When from that hellhole the bodies were drawn.
At last the wheel turns and the cage slowly rises
Stand back, all stand back, the official advises
Ambulances stand in a line waiting there
out come the first men, take gulps of fresh air.
Meg looks and sees first her husband, then son.
But nothing is seen of her son number one.
She ran towards them, she was lucky that day.
More than some wives and mothers could say.
Ten men remained in a tomb underground.
Their broken bodies alas never found
And now on a grass verge a monument stands
with names engraved thereon, nothing too grand.
Loved ones place flowers there, memories abide
at the spot on the surface - where those brave miners died.
Poetry by Pamel Brooke
Read 741 times
Written on 2009-01-29 at 22:31
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YORKSHIRE COAL MINING TRAGEDY
Meg heard the siren and jumped to her feet.
Took her shawl from the peg and went out to meet
Women and children all walking one way
All of them silent some stopping to pray,
They reached the pit yard and grouped all around
and apart from quiet weeping, hardly a sound.
Anxious drawn faces, eyes red from tears
Hands covered mouths, stemming unspoken fears.
Bustling officials tried to bring hope
if the worst thing had happened, how would they cope?
A terrible tragedy at the coal mine that day
a tunnel collapsing blocking the way.
Thirty men trapped there do they have air?
The rescuers toil, with bare hands they tear
Mountains of coal that's blocking their path
Send down machinery,' they shout in their wrath.
Poor Megs husband and two sons were trapped.
The pain on her face was so vividly mapped.
At the front of the crowd then someone did shout
they heard some tapping without any doubt
'They must be alive; oh they must be all right.'
For hour upon hour they stood through the night
Good neighbours came brought flasks of tea.
Took home the bairns so they wouldn't see
the scene unfold in the cold light of dawn.
When from that hellhole the bodies were drawn.
At last the wheel turns and the cage slowly rises
Stand back, all stand back, the official advises
Ambulances stand in a line waiting there
out come the first men, take gulps of fresh air.
Meg looks and sees first her husband, then son.
But nothing is seen of her son number one.
She ran towards them, she was lucky that day.
More than some wives and mothers could say.
Ten men remained in a tomb underground.
Their broken bodies alas never found
And now on a grass verge a monument stands
with names engraved thereon, nothing too grand.
Loved ones place flowers there, memories abide
at the spot on the surface - where those brave miners died.
Poetry by Pamel Brooke
Read 741 times
Written on 2009-01-29 at 22:31
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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ken d williams |
