Hickleton Main

I stand upon this tree-lined hilltop,

The view is fine, it’s picturesque.

The air is clear, if rather cold,

I think of myself as Newtonesque,

Standing, not on the shoulders of giants,

But on a century of a miner’s spoils,

Overlaid with some garden soil.

This was a coal mine, a generation ago,

Covered up, like a battered wife’s bruise,

And handed back to Nature’s charms,

Where trees and vegetation grow.


This land was hewn from underground,

On rocks dug out by a miner’s arms,

Enough slag to build a lofty mound,

 Now, safely returned to the bird song’s sound.


I begin to fully understand,

Nature’s need to reclaim her land.


◄ Mr Plague

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Kevin Tan

Fri 19th May 2023 05:35

You see, this is the kind of poetry I want to see. It goes back to one's roots, where one is currently rooted. An ode to locals & locality. That's truly authentic.

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John Botterill

Thu 18th May 2023 06:12

Thanks, Stephen. It's good to know that Nature has these regenerative powers. God knows it needs them! 😏

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Stephen Gospage

Tue 16th May 2023 07:59

Thank you, John. It is remarkable how nature reasserts itself.

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John Botterill

Mon 15th May 2023 17:04

Correct about the fossil fuel, John. I wanted to honour the miners and celebrate nature at the same time. A tricky juggling act.
Thanks for referencing my use of metaphor, Manish. I was inspired by Clare( as I often am) and her superb Tenter Hooks series.
Thanks too for the like, Keith. 😀

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Manish Singh Rajput

Mon 15th May 2023 15:26

Loved the way you conveyed the message metaphorically, of a covered up mining ground (nature's bruises) to that of a battered person's wounds.
A very elegant poem this, John B.🌿

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John Coopey

Mon 15th May 2023 11:08

I had 20 years in the mining industry, John, and I owe it for my character, memories, wages, pension and my wife (I met her while she was splitting lumps with her head). Nevertheless, it is good to see the use being put to reclaimed sites, not to mention the benefit of abandoning dirty fuel.

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