Coalseam: Poems from the Anthracite Region by Karen Blomain

By Karen Blomain

Fourteen poetic voices creatively exploring the Pennsylvania mining experience.  pay attention them sing of the feel of family members existence, the confluence of ethnic cultures, the brutality and chance of the mines, and the scars left at the souls and the surroundings. checklist to the humor that permits the stressed to outlive, and to the myths that guard the honor of the marginalized. percentage transcendent moments as glossy as faceted items of anthracite coal, and be renewed through re-experiencing the energy of the human spirit.

Show description

Read or Download Coalseam: Poems from the Anthracite Region PDF

Similar anthologies books

I, the song: classical poetry of native North America

I, THE track is an creation to the wealthy and intricate classical North American Poetry that grew out of and displays Indian existence prior to the ecu invasion. No generalization can carry precise for the entire classical poems of North American Indians. They spring from thirty thousand years of expertise, languages and dialects, and ten linguistic teams and common cultures.

The Hopwood Awards: 75 Years of Prized Writing

To have fun the seventy fifth anniversary of the Hopwood Awards, the editors of The Hopwood Awards: seventy five Years of Prized Writing gather the various Awards' top writing through the winners who went directly to in achieving repute as writers. on the grounds that they first all started in 1931, funded through a bequest from the desire of playwright Avery Hopwood, collage of Michigan classification of 1905, the Hopwood Awards have grown in profile and stature through the years to turn into, this present day, probably the most sought-after and celebrated writing prizes for college kids.

Additional info for Coalseam: Poems from the Anthracite Region

Example text

ALL, THEY SAID, WOULD VENTURE IT TOGETHER" Walam Olum Paul Kelley My father's voice was asking, was wanting to know there was before, they were not the only ones, they were not always here, these people, this land did not always hold them up, they came westward as part of a movement of people from Page 17 eastern coastal cities inland for land from Connecticut New York New Jersey into "The Beautiful Valley" in ones & twos & by the score: Smith, AbbotsPhillip & James Reuben Taylor, Isaac Trip, Howe, Slocums, Fellows, Joseph, Enoch Holmes, Daniel Wademan, Duwain, Von Storch, Obediah Gore, Drinker, Henry, Wurtses, and later, Scrantons, and later still hundreds and thousands more not mentioned nor remembered as the quanta rolled up It was land they were after, at first, when the land was oak, & and pine trees so thick they called the place Dark Hollow, air to breathe, clear water, abundance, space they could spread out in, & put wheat into the land, to make a new beginning or was it soon after, by 1828, it was all different it was coal that brought them here, coal the land was sought for, abundance no longer of the labor the fruit the land yielded profit now in dollars coal to fuel the fires of iron & steel & railroads Industry with a big I Lackawanna Station standing in a wheat field steel tracks & all newness gone to King Coal & the people to mine it & to lay the track, to forge, to work to make industry, machines, imported Page 18 as materials, their many languages used by their employers to keep them apart, these people from Wales, Ireland, Poland, England, Germany, Russia, & Italy the "olde world" come together here which americans & the Lenni Lenape, who were renamed "Delaware" after an English baron, were forced, went quietly, west, & disappeared there, Wissler says the land & the people & the coal & the city a voice asking was wanting to know.

Julie Page 37 runs round on him but he's got one son ain't hers a lawyer somewhere I never heard who comes to pick him up in a blue "ben-sadies-benz" Sundays a couple times a summer. His stump gets all blue in the cold so blue you'd think it hurts, but he says no it ain't hurt since he blew it off, but he has me wrap it in a red t-shirt he uses to wipe oil off his wrench, when he starts to feel his breath freeze on his lip. He's scared it will fall off and he won't be able to tell 'cause he can't feel it hurt.

He worked, a taproot tunneling inward, layer by layer, digging in a world of shadows, thick as a slug against the floor, dark all day long. Wherever he turned, the facets showered a million stars. , having been to the end of it, core and pith of the world's rock belly. Page 28 OLD MAN MÜLLER Nancy Deisroth I can't sleep, Doc, My heart pounds so. Can't you hear it? I'm afraid to close my eyes. Name? Muller, George. In the old country it was Müller. Georg Müller. Here it's different''easier," they say, "more American"; and I wanted to be American.

Download PDF sample

Rated 4.55 of 5 – based on 47 votes