The Miners Strike – Skirtingroundmylife

In this poem I travel back in time to 1973 and in particular to the winter of that as I recall a time of pre teen dreams and why power cuts and the miners strike were my first real introduction to politics and the fact that though neither of them were Tories my mum and dad had very different visions of the future. I’ve titled it Homework By Candlelight I hope you enjoy the read.

Homework By Candlelight

It was a cold winter that year
frosty mornings commonplace
as I recall
it was worse in the fog
for someone with a tendency to fall
more often than I’d like
the miners strike
meant homework by candlelight
my mother moaned that some nights
she would miss coronation street
she seemed to think that this twice a week treat
was her connection to her sister in Manchester
I was more of a top of the pops fan myself
well I was naive enough to dream
having not yet reached my teens
of a kinder more equal world
I kept my girlhood quiet
though hormones ran riot
at a time of conflicting emotions
in a home where colours were displayed
that had nothing to do with football

Anyone who knows me knows I’m politically engaged. As for my views as to where we should be as a society just let’s say I’m on the left of the spectrum and believe that we need to address poverty as a matter of urgency and that the best way to do that would be through a fairer system of taxation which those who have money pay more into the pot than those who haven’t. In this poem in which I look back at the 1980’s which was the decade I reached voting age and became politically active explains why I believe this to be the best and fairest way forward for our people and why I have always been against extreme forms of individualism. I’ve given it the title Broken Dreams I hope you enjoy the read.

Broken Dreams

Ra Ra skirts and glittered tights
Thatcher and the miners strike
communities shattered
privatisation
broken dreams
in a once proud nation

Greenham common and CND
Gremlins Ghostbusters and ET
a young Tom Cruise became top gun
as we all bought Now
the very first one
Danced to Culture Club and Wham
saint Bob really was the man
live aid rocked
and we showed the world why
but then idealism died

The greed and despair of the Thatcher years
sent me to sleep in a river of tears
but I held on to hope
I had no other choice
as a poetry helped me find my voice

Eastenders and Neighbours appeared on our tellies
crispy pancakes fed our bellies
Madonna and Kylie
Lionel Richie, Rick Astley
musical memories
both brilliant and ghastly

Recalling toys for younger cousins
spacehoppers would set them buzzing
rubik cubes puzzled
enquiring minds
cabbage patch dolls
didn’t travel with time

In thousands we marched
when the poll tax came
as people spoke out
saying not in our name
I hated injustice and fought for equality
There’s one war worth fighting
and that’s against poverty

I learned in the 80’s the price of exclusion
we should never give up
till we find the solution
we are faced with two choices
to the crime of all crimes
it’s a fairer tax system or Dickensian times