Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Robert Verdon, #220, untitled

in the seventeenth century
in the long shadow of whips and witches hammers

beat, largo,
its weight

as time
out of us

into white bowls
sweet as sugar beet

and we carried the time
to the mills
so that more might be
made every day

more butter, more guns, more books
until the clocks ran dry


  1. That's really interesting, evoking the industrial revolution!

  2. Thanks Susan, Anna — really nice when the poem 'works'. I was thinking of the industrial revolution, the rise of capitalism, and the horrific history of western 'civilisation'.

  3. Wow. "..bled...into white bowls/
    sweet as sugar beet..."
    these lines alone are perfect and bittersweet in their condensed condemnation of how the peasantry of the Midlands became factory fodder for the potteries, fresh blood for the Industrial Revolution. I lived near its birthplace (Telford, The Potteries and also the mills of Darby etc) and your poem evokes it all brilliantly for me. They are such pretty places now.


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