Purton Collier…
Daubed black,
Like military infiltrators,
Soot-encrusted bargemen hovered.
Expressionless, gawping eyes
Blinked mechanically,
As the mission slithered silently, stalling on tide.
Minds slack,
Like spectral traders,
Grime-encrusted coalmen wavered.
Hopeless, gaping eyes
Gazed abjectly,
As the launch angled inexorably to Severn’s side.
Splintering crack,
Like slaveman’s whip,
Filth-encrusted vessel gouged.
Featureless, shattering prow
Beached firmly,
As its hulk, embedded deeply, salvaged minimal pride.
Changing tack,
Like lost souls,
Smut-encrusted wraiths disembarked.
Aimless, scaling prow,
Searched vainly,
As their culture evanesced, indiscernibly, their
immortality cruelly denied…
Pete Ray
Purton, alongside the River Severn, where old boats were left to rot during the 1950s.
One had ‘COLLIER’ clearly marked upon the dried wooden hulk.
Maybe it was the resting place of a barge, which
carried coal to Cadbury’s chocolate factory in
Birmingham, along the canal system.
I was reminded of the landing craft used on D-Day and imagined the coalmen as the exposed
Infantrymen…
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