1942 Mining Disaster
1942 Mining Disaster....
©-MFB III- written at age 14
An anguished cry...a shatttering roar
then tons of rocks crash to the floor
workers above watch terrified
with certainty the men have died.
But from below there comes a cry
a man who won't give up and die,
he screams amidst the grisly dead
with thoughts of freedom in his head.
The air is choked with dust and gas
he must work fast to clear a pass ,
he lunges forward numb with shock,
stripping bare flesh while clawing rock.
His bloody fingers pay no mind
they dig and claw at all they find,
moving upward from this pit ,
Around him many corpses lay
with eyes that seemed to mock his way.
for they'd escaped the tunnel's gloom
and left him there to face his doom.
He hates them all.. they can't help fight
him in this flight to life and light ,
he turns his back on friends he'd known,
to plow and hammer his way home.
Above.... the crews, like blinded moles
by guesswork drill their frantic holes,
someday they too could share this fate
they whisper prayers for their trapped mates.
But deep with the bowels of Hell
the air grows thin....his lungs grow frail,
and though some progress is beginning,
Death sits beside him...calmly grinning.
Flat on his back he gasps for air
Death hovers now..he does not care,
his eyes begin to close in sleep,
to join those trapped below... so deep.
But memories of bright city lights,
the taste of waters cool delight ,
his wife and children fill his sight,
so once again he turns to fight.
to his surprise
a star erupts to blind his eyes,
a thousand arms reach in to grasp,
and pull him from death's wicked clasp .
He later wakes
in a sterile place
with earth's vomit
cleansed from his face
and now immune
from all his fears
for the men who died
he sheds a tear.
More by this Author
From the Palette of Mother Nature. You know where to go with a doubt Behold the handicrafts of God, ~ observe now as his Winter looms, ~ stitch needled specks of crystal white. Each weaving flawless, thick...
The Constipation of the United Blights of America ©-MFB III “ We the Puppets of the divided states, both red and blue, in disorder choose to deform a more perfect Union. We hang like...
On the first day of xmas your true love gave you a schadenfreude Robin my hood... on April 1, 2004. ©-MFB III- All rights reserved As the rains subsided, I spied a mother Robin today dancing on clawed...