The mountains survive
Their bellies emptied
Of the glass sharp stone
That was their life’s blood,
That fed the men who took it from them.
The mines are dead,
The mountains live on,
For the last time,
On tracks that lead to nowhere,
Left to rust for too many years,
Now shuttered in place.
Walls that barely contain their purpose,
Though they still stubbornly stand,
Unaware that the men who built them,
The great wheels and chains
They housed, are all long dead.
Nature takes her bounty back,
Trees and wildlife abound,
Where once the land was stained,
Black with coal, pierced with metal,
That rusts, lonely,
On the mountainside,
Unearthed shards of blue stone,
Shine in the sun,
Wet from rain,
As shoots of life
Return to this cold valley.
I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!
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I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here
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Lots of love,