Coal Miner Poem by Edmund V. Strolis
Coal Miner
Slump shouldered man
Struggling uphill alone
A dusty coal face
At last bound for home
No mercy in winter
Dark morning
Dark tunnels
The sun long gone down
Dark lungs
Dark cough
Dark snow on the ground
He digs his own grave
In the veins of this hell
January or February?
No way to tell.
Oh boy! ! you really captured the coal miners life Edmund. What a haunting image digging your own grave and moving in a world that is so full of darkness. We don't have coal mines in Ireland we have peat bogs. But I know in Wales and England a lot of men who worked in the mines never saw old age. They coughed themselves to death. But what choice did these poor men have they had to put food on the table and pay bills. There is a great song called School Days Over song by Luke Kelly I think you'd like it. I feel so grateful to live in the mountains and not in a dark coal mining town.
Be careful around those peat bogs! I remember when they found that unfortunate gentleman that had been preserved from centuries ago. Possibly a relative? I wrote this poem in two minutes. I hope that was not too obvious. All of my writings are spur of the moment things that I type out. Look over once or twice and then send. No grand design or rough drafts. Rhyme is always secondary and as a result I believe that this keeps my writing pure to my thoughts. I have read a poem wherein the rhyme seems contrived, clumsy and as a result it will seem unnatural to the ear. I have read Poe and Frost and found myself enjoying some of the technique while finding a word here and there forced. THE YELLOW CUP- The first poem that I posted. Was well liked by most... Her tiny hands held the mug, fingers traced each crack and scrape. Twas rare to find it out of sight for two moments in a day. Worn was the handle, near vanished the rose, a mere hint of pink inlaid. but the cup of yellow still held its' brilliance, as if by angels made. Was it true the story of a mother lost and the depth of her dear sorrow? Empty cup waiting for a yesterday, yet too full to hold tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/12/2024 8:19:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This was a great poetic painting of the coal miner. I have roots in West Virginia, so am familiar with this person and the spaces in which they reside. WVA is the most beautiful state I have ever visited, but the life of a coal miner is beyond tough. The landscape here is unforgiving and the weather too. The last stanza is beyond riveting. Well done. Loved reading it.