MORTAL MACHINE

A poem I wrote for my father, who was born in 1926 and is now similar to a motor car, needing constant tinkering to keep him up and running. I've done my best to capture his gasping Yorkshire accent. He was born in the days of horse and cart, starting work at the age of twelve in the steel mills on the east side of the iron river. He mentioned that not only were the steel drays pulled by the huge shire horses, but during the Second World War, they also used elephants from the zoo due to the lack of trucks and fuel. For a boy of twelve, it was a terrifying experience walking past these huge rumbling beasts that were stabled under the railway arches. Each time a train rumbled over the viaduct, these massive mammals would bellow out their deafening roars.

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