ELEGY Poem: Ower Late, by Alexander Graham

“Born too late”; a dole of words.
For a pitman? Chowk the adit.
Tommy varney lost his head,
nipped between tub and a rock face –
a collapse of facial bone.
Did dadding lend him breath on tick?
Moneyed said he wasn’t worth
pittance, and spent him happily.
Tough old get, and toughness pays
dearly; many more paid in crepe –
who will decide your Bloodworth?
They lost control, and called it dead;
there’s no Stephenson at bank.
He hewed my face, and faces break,
but I ken him, ower late.

Author: poetryfest

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