Terry Miller Poet Rhyme

The Beating of the Mill

The beating of the Mill,
we hear it down the hill.
It is the town's heartbeat.
No children on the street
already in the shop
to labor till they drop.
Sold to the upper class;
the mother needs the brass.
The father on the beer;
not working since last year.
The bosses own their soul,
their houses, so they toll;
boy, sister, young as four
stay bailiff from the door.
They; hardly off the teat,
meet quotas, or get beat.
Most dying all too young
from ailment of the lung
or bodies ripped apart.
No healthcare; caring heart
so poorer lose their health
while richer gain more wealth
on broken bodies, pain.
The workers take the strain.
Not distant, in the past
but present, and to last.
You think that things have changed,
you all must be deranged;
The Beating of the Mill
is calling us all still!



The Sweat Shop Poetry Contest placed 5th
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Date wrote: 15th February 2022

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Caren Krutsinger April 1, 2022 at 10:34 PM So sad "Sold, to the upper class; the mother needs the brass. The father on the beer; not working since last year." and yet often so true! I like that you said so much in rhyme. Terry Miller April 2, 2022 at 6:01 AM Thank you Caren I was trying to work with a strong beat in this one.

Gershon Wolf February 16, 2022 at 8:29 PM Ooh! Excellent perspective, past and present, Terry. Elites think that the days of 'the mill' are long gone... Same elites that mocked Vladimir Putin as a 19th-century laughingstock. (Who's laughing now?!) :) gw Terry Miller February 21, 2022 at 1:29 AM Thank you, Gershon, I appreciate your comments and your encouraging visits. Terry.

Gary Radice February 15, 2022 at 8:21 AM A great poem with a very powerful 'sweat shop' message and great cadence. Nice one Terry. Cheers - Gary Terry Miller February 16, 2022 at 1:18 AM Thank you, Gary; I was trying for that rhythmic beating mill cadence throughout; I appreciate your comments, Terry.

Deb M February 15, 2022 at 3:53 AM Hey Terry…..great poem really liked it! Debx Terry Miller February 16, 2022 at 1:19 AM Thank you, Deb.

John Lawless February 15, 2022 at 3:49 AM ..."Saint Peter don't you call me cause I can't go, I owe my soul to the company store" I think that's a line from a Tennessee Ernie Ford song Terry Miller February 16, 2022 at 1:20 AM Indeed! Thanks for visiting, Terry.