About a rock quarry, new poem

Dead Men and Dog Holes

Dead men,
Iron staples
Bound in granite
With no purpose now,
But their steady fastness
Kept the derricks erect.

Dog holes,
Perfect pits
Drilled in granite
With no purpose now
But their steady anchor
Kept the quarried blocks
On their trajectory out of the motion.

Empty holes and useless staples,
grout pile of cast off granite
By the sea-filled quarry lake,
Harshly sheer cliffs
Cut by men

Crushed
By the weight
Of time accumulating
beside the tide churning,
beneath the sun rising,
below the sun’s settings,
Leaving little but
The sapstone rust
behind.

written at Halibut Point State Park,
formerly Babson Farm Quarry Park, Rockport, Massachusetts USA

Advertisements

About Don Segal

See Commentary, Photos, Drawings and Poetry on my blog at donsegal.wordpress.com.
This entry was posted in granite, Poem, Poetry, quarry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s