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© 2009 Douglas Munday all rights reserved
He strove and worked his years away,
took no sweet pleasure, only pay.
Asked none for favour or for friend,
stooped nor to borrow or to lend.
Lived quiet down where the river ran,
with little thought and no great plan.
Kept to himself; each day the same,
long nights as darkness called again.
But time moved on and middle years
cried pause to lonely morning fears.
His heart was bursting at the seams;
what good more days of dying dreams?
So he who'd toiled his life away,
worked on 'til dusk one final day.
Laid down his tools at set of eve,
from forty years he took his leave.
Left in the night with no goodbye,
a silent tear within his eye.
His tread crossed weary on the rime,
no great reward for all that time.
Passed quiet down where the river ran,
where he had lived both boy and man.
His steps left none a trace to see;
the mark of what a man should be.
The Black Beach of Lanzarote
(for Nana's Children)
The beach was silent 'til we came
by water's edge to play our games,
lost to the beauty of the day
in sweet delight and childish play.
The lead of course was took by Nan
who always had a secret plan,
and she led us down there
hand in hand, into her magic wonderland.
It was a place where time stood still for us,
no doubts, no fears, no silly fuss.
To clustered rock pools where we played,
somewhere I wish we could have stayed.
Our Nan found shells in every pool,
told us that they were Neptune's jewels,
lain there for many million years,
washed by the sea's own salty tears.
Wide eyed and happy we explored,
no thoughts of ever getting bored.
Saw baby fishes, Huge Sea Slugs!
Pink Shrimps and wriggly little Bugs.
And on that tiny sun kissed beach,
sweet paradise came to our reach,
So we built our castles in the air,
without a thought, without a care.
But time, as ever, sped on by,
we had to go, say our goodbyes.
Leave safe that little strip of sand
set there by nature's ancient hand.
Yet still that time, that sparkling sea,
will stay locked always inside me.
Hand held forever by my Nan,
who always had a secret plan.
The Coal Miner
Poverty, stretching like a cloak,
covering light and love and hope,
Leaving tears within its wake,
not e'en a penny left to take.
But you with eyes that never see,
still never been as poor as me,
Have never known the Council knock,
or life enclosed within its block.
Nor seen the houses black with grime
and known the blackest will be mine,
or watched the fading mother's trust,
as it crumbles slowly into dust.
Still to the shaft I take the cage,
another day in silent rage,
trod weary all my life long day
until the dreams have flown away.
So you with eyes that never see,
in sweet oblivion passing me,
shed not a tear, for nor will I,
until the time I come to die.
Then on the treadmill risen high,
into the clear untroubled sky.
You'll ask forgiveness of your time
as I have always done with mine.
And in my refuge, safe, sublime,
I'll curse that dread and wretched mine,
wishing I had learned to soar
in a world that owed me so much more.
Photograph © Wunderground
Love at the Checkout
Within that busy bustling place,
I saw a pale and tired face,
as smoothly practised every day
she packed each hard won prize away.
As lunchtime fell, she'd had her fill,
of impatient lines stood at the till.
'Twas almost time to toll the bell
and Oh! She knew that sound so well.
I heard the clink of jangled keys,
they loosed her chains of slavery.
I saw relief light up her face,
shine in that busy bustling place.
A second ticked a second more,
she caught my glance across the floor,
smiled shyly as I joined her queue,
last one in line; till twenty two.
She moved with slow unhurried grace,
lunchtime forgot, no urgent pace.
I watched each item make its way,
wished it would take the whole of day.
I stole a moment of her time,
became her first and last in line.
And that smile I never have forgot,
She loved me? or; She loved me not?