By Ian Colville
I met a traveller down from Gateshead heath
Who said: It's tall with outstretch'd wings of steel
Standing on Low Fell. Nearby underneath,
A half forgotten mineshaft lies, where coal
In darkness mined once was, by men whose teeth
Shone white from blacken'd visage where they grin'd
By hard coal face, oppress'd for what it's worth
In toil and sweat to fill an early grave.
And on the pedestal shall words appear:
“I am Geordiemonstrous, angel of the north:
Look on my role, ye tourist, and rejoice!”
My gesture will endure: embrace the past
And grasp the future; change the only choice
If hopes and fears of man be crown'd at last.
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Ian Colville writes poems under the pseudonym of iainthepict, a nom de plume for his on-line presence. He's been writing poetry for the last forty years or so. Read more of Iainthepict's works at iainthepict.blogspot.com______________________________________________
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