On the hives in color,
On the summer clothes,
On the tables and fruit,
I’m looking for it,
In the knotted buns,
On the wings of birds,
On the wings of hurricanes,
I’m looking for it,
On the surprised lemons,
On the necklaces of mothers,
On the turned over baskets,
I’m looking for it,
On the trust granted
With wheat and vines,
On your sunny skin,
I’m looking for it,
( to be continued)
Sur les ruches en couleur,
Sur les habits d’été,
Sur les tables et les fruits,
Je le cherche,
Dans les chignons noués,
Sur les ailes des oiseaux,
Sur les ailes des ouragans,
Je le cherche,
Sur les citrons étonnés,
Sur les colliers des mamans,
Sur les corbeilles retournées,
Je le cherche,
Sur la confiance accordée
Au blé et aux vignes,
Sur ta peau ensoleillée,
Je le cherche,
( à suivre)
Categories:
colliers, appreciation, encouraging, happiness,
Form: Free verse
Hatcher Hollow is old white colonizer's country
my cousin sold me this precious land property
My ancestors lived im Mc Ewen Tn for centuries
my ancestors lived and died in Humphrey county
my people were native on our grandparents William collier and Letha pearl Webb Smith side
I noticed my colliers were black hair blue eyed
i wondered if my people were the Appalachian and part Melungeon
I heard my Smith native people are from Kentucky ,North Carolina region
my people came from many shades of brown in older generation
our culture had to bury this information
the cover ups and broken history wont take away our native pride
I have strong heritage and have nothing to hide
here at Hatcher road there's trees all around me
the road I live on is curvy
there's no wifi and google cant find me
I tolerate living off the grid away from society
I'm up on high grounds to be a hilly billy
I wont drown by rain swamps like in the lower valley
I live not too far from my family graves in Humphrey county
the forest thinned too much that gave my buried ancestor privacy
it looks so different than where i want to be buried
Categories:
colliers, culture,
Form: Rhyme
Once were badgers in leafy dale,
once were rabbits and foxes too,
once were pheasants in shining copse where cuckoopint and coltsfoot grew.
Once were songbirds in privet hedges,
once were bluebells for mile upon mile,
once were dark woods cool and shading hiding squirrels and foxes guile.
Once were home fed pigs and poultry,
once were food with proper taste,
once were marls with mirrored water, but now they only hold our waste.
Once were farmers in umber meadow,
once were colliers in village pit,
once were taverns for quenching thirst where now the townie and tourist sit.
Once were fens and fields and down-lands,
once were moorhen and curlews call,
once were stewards of Gods own country, where now there is but urban sprawl.
Once were leaders of Albion's masses,
once were statesmen of unbending word,
once was a land that was fit for heroes, where now only spin and deceit are heard.
Categories:
colliers, anger, angst, emotions, longing,
Form: Rhyme
Buy your coal mine canary
From Ivanka's Canary Shop
You'll know you bought a bargain
When it does The Canary Flop
Tomahawk missile launches
Ensure a mining boom
So canary songs can linger
Like when Elvis left the room
So buy your coal mine canary
(Ivanka's are the best)
Knowing birds and colliers
Shall find eternal rest!
Categories:
colliers, bird, career, death, natural
Form: Verse
Mother and three siblings to keep,
bread winner, man of the house,
at pit head, down into the deep,
to extract coal like a sucking louse,
twelve hour shifts, morning to night,
water to drink, jam and bread,
working in poor artificial light,
coal miners life until he's dead,
thousand feet down, four miles along,
on man rider to coal face,
sound of mind, with arms so strong,
essential to keep up the pace,
with pick and shovel in hand,
now at the sharp end, damp hot,
more coal employers demand,
this hard life is a miners lot,
miners blood flows through his vein,
coal the centre of his soul,
buried Ancestors down pits remain,
reaching retirement his goal,
from a sunless place,he emerges,
moleskin trousers, dirty shirt,
gassed canaries, in cages,
aged fifteen, an inherited convert,
his hands are rough and beat,
grime ingrained into palms,
his fathers boots on his feet,
miners lamp, full of charm,
head to toe covered in slack,
survived another day young lad,
colleague to scrub his aching back,
thoughts of dead, especially his dad.
Categories:
colliers, absence, boy, career, courage,
Form: Rhyme
A road draws through
Straggly lines of black ragged trees
In a landscape under bleak eastern light
Past The Village Chippy
Colliers Row and the Working Men’s Club
Towards a hill up north
Where in the bitter biting cold
Once great blocks were hewn
In a greater industrial age
The scattered remnants remain
As dust in the memory
Here the refuse is laid to rest
The fluff of our lives
Is crawled upon by machines
As mist curls into the wind like smoke
And men pluck rags from the branches of trees
Categories:
colliers, urban
Form: I do not know?