Will The Slag Still Flow? [poem]

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This one is about the pending take-over of our largest local employer in the mining biz by foreigners. We all know what will happen next after that.


Will The Slag Still Flow?

Boyhood memories from my uncle’s window
When he lived in the Gatchell long ago
Night skies lit by the slag’s flow
On that snowy hill we cast our shadows
As we tobogganed down that slope
But today I wonder if there’s still hope

I live on a hilltop near the creek’s side
From my window it has nothing to hide
Our local icon that stands so high
Seen by all so far and wide
If we’re to set its image aside
It tells quite well the weather outside

The direction the smoke is going
Tells which way the wind’s a blowing
If it is lost in the clouds today
Then rain is what’s well on its way
Besides that’s where all our folks work
Their daily bread forever buttered

From far away a gathering storm
What do I see? The Devil’s hand?
In those same clouds I see the wolves
Eying us all like tasty morsels
And here we stand like so many lambs
Fate to be sealed by a pen’s stroke

Tomorrow I ask what’s really in store
What’s on the menu? Just potatoes?
Just like that painting by Van Gogh
By candle light I see the locals
Our local icon billowing no more
That’s why I ask: will the slag still flow?

To keep with the rhyming scheme and give the most likely answer: No.

LOL Vinzer

This could very well be the fate of my community.

http://www.vangoghgallery.com/painting/potato.html