Did it feel like entering
the gates of
Hell -descending into
that dank pit
digging out the bowels
of the earth
breathing in black
dust until your lungs
were filled
covered in the devil’s
own breath
with only the whites
of your eyes glowing
eerily in the darkness
day and night were the same
a tin pail and a lantern
your only solace
a pick axe your weapon
Mining for Coal
rhymeswithbug 
Very tone imbuing…you’ve captured a darkness in words that can be felt. Vivid, Candy.
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Also…I hope you don’t mind I added your link to Mr Linky…the other two added were “no page found.”
Wouldn’t want others to miss your work. 🙂
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thanks so much. I had some posting issues that day
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You’re welcome…glad to help. 🙂
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Candy; this is very vivid, capturing and very disturbing in mood, Works well for the image you wished projected
much love…
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One can well imagine that it did. (Hooray fort renewables!)
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“for renewables
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Coal miners? I once visited the bowels of a tin mine in Wales. Lots of people used to die there before safety regulations became written and enforced. I don’t know if they get Black Lung or only coal miners. Pretty scary work when one thinks about the dangers.
..
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I can easily visualize the chthonic aspect of mining…love the visual aspect of your poem.
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No more visual and fearsome example of a harrow in life than the coal mine — that one must do daily shifts there makes it only more awful. Loved the image of those white eyes in such darkness.
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