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Collars – The proletariat’s song by Stephen Kingsnorth

Quaz | Feb 26th, 2020 | a poem a day challenge | No Comments

Poem

I used to starch white collars,
burnt breast if know the brand,
though that of distant ages –
just as when neck was tag.

I understand the theory –
the bright wrung blue round neck,
but I note for different skill sets,
they both are complement.

Strategist, financial wizard
may conjure long term plan,
but take away tool maker,
there’s nothing left to span.

All cogs in machinery,
I don’t care what they wear,
but know each insufficient,
without the other there.

I do recall at NASA,
‘What job?’ janitor asked.
‘I’m part of team, man on the moon’
visionary response.

There are white collar workers,
the best, like working dogs,
are hounds that point to heaven,
find paradise on earth.

So handiwork or brain cells,
your contribution same,
but what remuneration,
to reward every claim?

Poet Bio

Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had pieces accepted by some twenty on-line poetry, including Poetry Potion; and Gold Dust, The Seventh Quarry, The Dawntreader, Foxtrot Uniform Poetry Magazines & Vita Brevis Anthology.

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