Chain

I come from a line

of strong women,

makers of nail and chain,

forged of iron, their

skin leathered by heat

thirst slaked by ale.

Babes suckled at

molten breast,

and fed sop, their

milky white souls

fired in the bellows

until their outer shell

hardened, moulded

to anvil and hammer.

And when Mary Macarthur

called shame

they marched as one

a coal-fired army

of bonnet and shawl

'white slaves of England'

content to be slaves no more.

I come from a line

of strong women

forged from nail and chain.

Reviews

[.]

:: wow... i just read about Mary Macarthur in wikipedia thanks to you... what a lady... and what a poem... i have always sensed your power and conviction... you've supported me since the beginning... am really lucky to be in your universe of exceptional verse, dearest shelley... and in your universe where the human rights of girls and women are respected as they ought to be... thank you for being you...

[New Dawn]

Ah thank you so much Serah x the lady in the middle was my great-great-great grandmother. her name was patience and she lived to be 103 years old despite her very hard life x

[.]

:: wow... she must've been truly spectacular... thank you for sharing that bit of personal history with me...

[Neville]

Well nobody with any sense at all is going to mess with our heroine depicted above. Superbly forged, then cast here for all those who choose to visit or otherwise stumble upon to admire and slake their poetic thirst. An absolute treasure and a fitting literary tribute to a moment in time which has since become part of our true heritage....Blooming luverly if ya ask me....N

[Rosalind Gale]

I just dropped by to say hello! And I was so happy to read this piece. I love the industrial feel to it. The strength within shows itself as more than just determination, there is the belief and the love for each other, a vision that leads to something tangible, born out of adversity. Thank you Shelley - and I hope you read this, much love -
Rosa
-x-