Dirge At Work Poem by Patrick O'Reilly

Dirge At Work

Rating: 5.0


Carry out your dead,
Exhausted old men
Tired from toiling without triumph

Ashes to ashes
Fingers to the bone
The working man
Always dies alone

Ring your living bell
A life with iron jaws
Or a heart with churning gears

Ashes to ashes
Fingers to the bone
Only the working man
Dies alone

Blow the steam whistle
In time to see the red sun
Falling behind the smokestacks

Ashes to ashes
Fingers to the bones
At the end of the day
We all die alone

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Elizabeth Castleberry 03 April 2006

Very good imagery.

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