Poetry Blogs (workers)
Wide Is The Gate And Broad Is The Road
A sky bleached like old bones
dug from damp earth on an autumn morning.
The pale sun spits on car roofs in a Northern town
where colours hide behind a sheen of grey.
Tram tracks, like silver trails of slugs,
pacing the slowly walking midnight man.
Something ancient and horrid has left a double-mustard
trail of crumbs for him to follow, but nev...
Friday 13th March 2015 12:26 pm
Poem for Bob Crow (cheers W.H. Auden)
Stop all the docks, cut off the trains,
Start the mariners striking, be still the cranes,
Silence the busses and with muffled bullhorn
Bring out the coffin, let the workers come.
Let politicians circle, moaning overhead
confessing on the airwaves, He Is RED,
Put nooses round the white necks of the bosses,
Let the riot policemen carry their own crosses.
Saturday 22nd March 2014 7:35 pm
There I stand in the bakery before the huge steel metal machine, 100 yards long and silver. A cake machine worth a mint. All sorts of ingredients thrown together to make cakes, quite a mix! You’d need to see it for yourself to understand what goes on. Not a case of add this and that to make a cake, oh no. Recipes and correct steps to take.
Think of the engineering that...
Monday 2nd July 2012 7:16 pm