Tiger's_Lily
*Very Proud Aussie!!*
This is a fantastic example of an outstanding Aussie poet!
Enjoy!!
Queensland poet Robert Raftery wrote this poem about the events in Beaconsfield. For more info, visit www.robertraftery.com.au.
A handful of heroes
The cage is thin, the rocks are large, in the stifling, blanketing black mirage,
And when the rocks stop talking… the only sound… is of two hearts beating underground,
One kilometre down, seems their tombs are sealed… Tasmanian goldmine… Beaconsfield,
Soon the news breaks forth as the lines are read… Larry Knight, miner… dead.
On the Richter scale, two point two… grim hopes are held for the other two,
Inside in a little over a metre square… they wait in the humid, coal black air,
Miners… mates… with the mental skill to siphon off 'fore overfill,
Alive in the darkness and well aware… of a mountain of thoughts rushing in from up there,
As through the corkscrew tunnel… to their pitiful perch… pours the passionate prayers from a red brick church.
The silence stifles… strangles… reeks… then from their stricken cage,
Their voices vibrate through the void, down microphone to page,
Then through the congregation a voice lights up the drive, through the blue air thin… a voice cuts in… "They're alive! They're alive!"
Cramped and caged, every breath's a gift, now a nation prays for the wings to lift,
And on the pithead there… stark… profound… flies the red battle flag of men underground.
The world now storms the mine site… the rescue's under way,
Millions man the lifeboats in straight shifts, night and day,
And a lone dog logs his hours by the pithead until late,
For from a thousand metres underground, he hears the heartbeat of his mate.
With bare hands… brawn and bayonets… with the Empire on "hair trigger",
Under brutal Boer bombardment, we earned the title "Digger",
And now we dig for the greatest prize… creations crème de la crème,
Yard by yard… through marble hard… we mine for our precious men.
As the days turned into a week and more, we powered on with the giant bore,
Angled in to the humid hell… by millimeters… the rock wall fell,
Mathematics… geometry… medicine… machinery… all milled to a micro pace,
'Neath the hard hats of A Handful of Heroes who clawed at a monster's face.
And then in the midst of the moment… fate launched a separate shell,
The familiar face of a media ace… stepped back from the line and fell.
Underground… it's the final round… the last few dangerous feet,
Our hearts now pound… down underground as we synchronize the fleet.
Then the bombshell of the breakthrough… the roar of hammers cease,
There's an extra gloss on the Southern Cross in the land of the Golden Fleece,
As the diggers drop their drills in place, majesty reins in the human race,
Up above the lamps are lit… as the men emerge from the blackened pit.
As the cheering thundered through the fractured air…
advancement powered through Australia fair,
As euphoria set its fire crackers… the two men request… "drive-through Macca's",
And as Harley took the salute with a wag… two miners reclaimed… their red battle flag,
And as a mighty nation's thanks took shape… a church bell spoke of a great escape.
Enjoy!!
Queensland poet Robert Raftery wrote this poem about the events in Beaconsfield. For more info, visit www.robertraftery.com.au.
A handful of heroes
The cage is thin, the rocks are large, in the stifling, blanketing black mirage,
And when the rocks stop talking… the only sound… is of two hearts beating underground,
One kilometre down, seems their tombs are sealed… Tasmanian goldmine… Beaconsfield,
Soon the news breaks forth as the lines are read… Larry Knight, miner… dead.
On the Richter scale, two point two… grim hopes are held for the other two,
Inside in a little over a metre square… they wait in the humid, coal black air,
Miners… mates… with the mental skill to siphon off 'fore overfill,
Alive in the darkness and well aware… of a mountain of thoughts rushing in from up there,
As through the corkscrew tunnel… to their pitiful perch… pours the passionate prayers from a red brick church.
The silence stifles… strangles… reeks… then from their stricken cage,
Their voices vibrate through the void, down microphone to page,
Then through the congregation a voice lights up the drive, through the blue air thin… a voice cuts in… "They're alive! They're alive!"
Cramped and caged, every breath's a gift, now a nation prays for the wings to lift,
And on the pithead there… stark… profound… flies the red battle flag of men underground.
The world now storms the mine site… the rescue's under way,
Millions man the lifeboats in straight shifts, night and day,
And a lone dog logs his hours by the pithead until late,
For from a thousand metres underground, he hears the heartbeat of his mate.
With bare hands… brawn and bayonets… with the Empire on "hair trigger",
Under brutal Boer bombardment, we earned the title "Digger",
And now we dig for the greatest prize… creations crème de la crème,
Yard by yard… through marble hard… we mine for our precious men.
As the days turned into a week and more, we powered on with the giant bore,
Angled in to the humid hell… by millimeters… the rock wall fell,
Mathematics… geometry… medicine… machinery… all milled to a micro pace,
'Neath the hard hats of A Handful of Heroes who clawed at a monster's face.
And then in the midst of the moment… fate launched a separate shell,
The familiar face of a media ace… stepped back from the line and fell.
Underground… it's the final round… the last few dangerous feet,
Our hearts now pound… down underground as we synchronize the fleet.
Then the bombshell of the breakthrough… the roar of hammers cease,
There's an extra gloss on the Southern Cross in the land of the Golden Fleece,
As the diggers drop their drills in place, majesty reins in the human race,
Up above the lamps are lit… as the men emerge from the blackened pit.
As the cheering thundered through the fractured air…
advancement powered through Australia fair,
As euphoria set its fire crackers… the two men request… "drive-through Macca's",
And as Harley took the salute with a wag… two miners reclaimed… their red battle flag,
And as a mighty nation's thanks took shape… a church bell spoke of a great escape.
