Factory Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE
Factory
The factory now lies empty on the bleak and stark estate,
Its corrugated roof tops are all slowly falling through,
No burning fire in chimney stacks and all machines are still,
Hushed the days and evenings now there's no more work to do.
The weeds do grow within the yard where concrete has cracked,
Trucks no longer loading up their steel and copper freight,
Hands upon the clock tower both stopped turning long ago,
Time is frozen firmly locked behind that rusting gate.
Adorned with chains and padlocks and a fading 'Keep Out' sign,
Warning of the danger of the falling bricks inside,
Where once it was wide open as the workers did arrive,
But now is closed forever for the industry has died.
The grey clouds moving over and the rain begins to fall,
Sunlight rarely shines upon this barren town at war,
The windows mostly boarded in the houses on the streets,
No jobs and no salvation for the townsfolk anymore.
The bleakness in this one, almost unbarable and yet strangely we see a glimmer of hope shining down on these buildings, , the sun, And then we notice natures new shoots sprouting forth where they had no chance or choice before A very well written poem AGAIN from an already skillfull writer Take care Love duncan X
There is a sadness in these verses. What once was great and thriving but now in decay. Reminds me of the 'ghost towns' of western movies. One can almost feel the lonliness. Masterful write indeed, Andrew. Thank you Richard
A sad sign of the times Andrew, as always I can picture the scene so well, a lot of industry has now gone from the Black Country, the people so hard-working, toiling in bad conditions, well penned, Lynda xxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 9:00:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A poignant poem Andrew, beautifully written! ! A reminder when there's A recession around, eventually where you live - it could become a ghost town. Best wishes! ! *10*! ! Friend Thad