Each King’s Shilling

Above the crisscrossed roofs and chimneys
coal smoke towers form a tusk,
that rise as high as sails on sail boats
and block the light before the dusk,
that fog o’er yonder will don its thick coat
once the sun is slain,
my iron lungs will cough it up
and breathe it in again.

Beneath the bridge the vagrant dwellers
pray for rum to take them home
and line their guts as warm as leather,
stolen, from their fat kings throne,
tonight they know they’ll die together,
though dying’s not the plan,
yet each king’s shilling in their hands
will pay the ferry man.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

A rather grim one here. I know Wales is famed for coal mines, and the first stanza seems to reflect the difficulties that industry can bring to a region. I am most interested in stanza two, however. The last lines speak of the king's shilling paying the ferry man. In Greek mythology, Charon was the ferryman for the river Styx, the border of the underworld. Is this meant as a metaphor for death?

[Lathen Griffiths]

Thank you John.

[Richard🖌]

Lathen,

Your well-struck poem brings to mind my paternal ancestral Welsh uncles, aunts, and grandparents, who, in the late 16th century, migrated from LLanfair Gwynedd and Rhondda Cynon Taf to America to farm and work the West Virginia coal mines, died of the black lung, and handed down a legacy of olde country history, language, and customs from the "Mamwlad Cymryu (Welsh Homeland)," as my dearly departed grandparents called it … nothing so beautiful as the spoken Welsh tongue. I can still hear my grandmother's soft, sweet voice call me Fy Cariad (My Love).

Anyway, how wonderful the imagery of your words awaken one's lively imagination and appreciation of the magic in an adventurous poetic voice relating olden life and times long past, except in the hearts of those who still hear the voices of hearty men of the mines and sea, and those less fortunate itinerants who joined the King's Navy, one and all, to take their final voyage …
"tonight they know they die together,
though dying’s not the plan,
yet each king’s shilling in their hands
will pay the ferry man."

My thinking is that you, My Friend, are not only a fine poet, but a great raconteur.
For the pleasure, diolch yn fawr! ⁓ Richard🖌

[Aluppi Jampur]

Oh that ending is so perfect with its double meaning.
Great work.

[Lathen Griffiths]

Many thanks Chrome, much appreciated,

Lathen.

[Miss Sharon]

Such a sad yet poignant write Lathen. Your writes are so descriptive your reader feels as though they are a part of the setting. Thank you! ~Sharon

[Miss Sharon]

I want to add something. I notice that this post has had 171 views and only 3 reviews. That is an atrocity in my opinion! People are so lazy these days! ~Sharon

[Lathen Griffiths]

Many thanks Sharon, much appreciated.

Lathen

[jacob erin-cilberto]

This is really good, Lathen, sent me in two directions....the King Putin and what he is doing to Ukraine but closer to home...the rich on their powerful, wealthy thrones, and those tossed under the bridge like water...to suffer and die....with no remorse on the Kings' parts whatsoever.
j.

[Lathen Griffiths]

Thank you Jacob, yes I agree, the extremes within our world seem more evident than ever at the moment, wealth v poverty, war v peace, I suppose even the truth v false information.

Lathen

[Chris Shaw]

Taking the King's shilling, I believe meant signing up for the army. Sounds as though this lot are going to drown in rum. Maybe a better option than in battle. Not sure I have the meaning here but dying together is better than alone. Great ambience created here Lathe. Superb imagery and tells a history lesson. They have their money for the ferryman too.

Chris

[Lathen Griffiths]

Spot on Chris, they say once you accepted the king’s shilling that you were part of the Royal Navy for as long as you were required, I think they were quite devious and would ply people with liquor (paid for with the King’s shilling) and when they were drunk basically kidnap them, quite a recruitment campaign. :)

Lathe