A TRIBUTE TO THE LAST NOTTINGHAMSHIRE COAL MINERS
DUE TO CLOSE JULY 2015
When your world is crashing around you,
When your head is in a mess,
When you take it out of your loved ones,
When you think you know beast.
When you want to hide away from life.
And blame everybody at fault,
When you feel out of control,
That’s when you need to call a halt.
My friend, you are heading for a breakdown,
For your life is out of control,
You need help to correct it,
Before it rips out your soul.
Don’t try to correct it yourself,
You need help from another source,
Allow your doctor to treat you,
So that you can get back on course.
For when you have had your treatment,
Those dark clouds will drift away,
You then will be back to normal,
You then will see the light of day.
So the results must be of little worth.
Constructing sightless eyes no
one will see
Probing rock with human fingers
One – minded their effort approaches
Years past witness human fingers to
Monuments remain to visit their labor;
Solemn stone faces looking out,
Pumice minds knowing an age of men
Possessing greatness long gone –
Deaf ears formed with stone axes,
Blood and sweat transformed
To monumental greatness;
Waiting on Easter Island .
I wrote a poem about these feelings, and it was published in 1975. The poem was published in the anthology, Best Poets of the 20th Century (another magnificent title and an awesome stretch), by Winston – Paramount Books, edited by B. Winston – Paramount .
Sometimes, when you get the Blues
or The Nana of yours, she’s jalouse
That, You feel lonely, to night
and in your inside, it tears
I harken to the Soul-of-my guitar,
I hugged that Old-companion, of mine
my Fillet-Mignion, my glass of wine
My-bread-and-butter, my Duchess
My guitar, my gitane, my muse,
Keep your laughter, and your tears,
and your sarcasm, please
if that’s ye amuse
we had, an _á peut–prêt, this small talk
T’was two o’clock:am, I suppose
I said to her: “Longtime no-see”
She said: ” I was just sitting there,
already set, with all my frets
Longing for your fingers,
on my neck to linger
I was all time, Resting on a chair,”
“Just gathering some dust
And you were, always at a hast,”
You fled for a woman,and her hair
Now, you come back to me, heart-broken, at last
And for my hard strings always to press_
At seventeen, I know L’Amour, ç’a blesse
I’m longing for your caress
Can’t you see it?”
with some reproach in her voice
She said: can You believe it?
I said: ” Ain’t got no choice”
“mais encore”, she said
“Strike the chords”
I said: “It doesn’t mean a thing”
She said “Seise the thing, and let it go
Grate the string
just add a touch
some Sol La Si
And Say it low
the words will flow
And put some rhymes.
It works sometimes
Then you get the Blues,
And you’ll be at ease”
I said: “to-night.
” I have to write,
she said:” it’s will be alright,
just get it right.”
“And you are done with that beautiful mess”
__At wee hour, I felt like having my soul, of a poet, and a troubadour,
Bank holiday has come
We’re off to seaside
To have some fun,
Let’s get sand in our shoes
Bucket and spades
Pick up the lemonade
Sand castles are made,
The seafront is paved with
Fish and chips and candy floss,
Let’s spend our money
in the penny slots,
Paddling pools and donkey rides
Bank holiday has come
We had some holiday fun,
So on the bus and homeward bound
How many seashells have we found?
By Thomas Sims