Poetry From The Heart
Small children make mud-pies for dinner
in a coal-camp in the hills of West Virginia.
Life’s slow, there’s not many toys
play is what a child conjures in their mind.
There are no main activities in town
highlight; a bumper car hauls coal to unload.
Black solid fuel keeps the town salaried
life’s rough…if mine’s on strike
no jobs…no visits to company store
no paychecks, no money, exist on commodities
allotted to families who are out of work…
people endure on dreams of tomorrows.
Coal-camp houses spotted within valley
a quaint place of close-knit families
fused by the black gold they dig for.
Their lineage passed down to sons
a hard job…darkness engulfs their day’s
life; early mornings and winters without light.
Family life is of utmost importance
Jesus is number one in their lives…
cannot think of a Sunday without church.
Kinfolk’s gatherings…laughter and enjoyment
a bond of home and loved ones
friends marry friends binding families.
Life’s good and full of love for one another
a town of beauty built on a solid foundation
recognizes black gold keeps life alive and
inhabits together as one big circle of people
fraught with fear it’ll be stolen from them…
if the mine shuts down, leaving them ruptured.
Barbara Kasey Smith is the writer of this poem – Copyright 2014 – Use by Permission Only.