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ABERFAN (The day a school died)
The black slime slid, like a black devouring slug,
It’s slow sluggish journey towards the school
Inside the pupils sat fresh of face, innocent and full of trust,
Hands clasped in Morning Prayer, for most their last,
These innocents, soon to be Angels
As Jesus said “Let the little children come to me”
These innocents would pay the price of mining coal,
Not for them to grow up, and play in sunlit fields
King Coal rules. The price of mining is always high, in human terms
Scarred valleys clogged lungs, the blue scarred faces and shattered limbs.
And on that day the black slime wiped the Hop Scotch grids from that school yard,
And there is no one left to play, No Gwen, no Rhys nor little Sian,
Soon they would be laid to sleep, on that hill,
Just memories left, with grieving parents.
And on that grey foggy day, at Pantglas School a generation died
And a community changed to a valley of sorrow
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How we observe and how we reflect.
The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.
The facades of a perfect home.
This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.