A city of steel, it was called,
Also soot, smoke and grimy dirt.
In winter, sometimes it would snow
But the flakes would all be black.
The safety rules were so lax in mills,
One year more than a thousand men died.
Their widows received one hundred dollars.
Crippling injuries left thousands of men
Dependent on the charity of other workers.
The mill owners never cared for cripples.
Wages just barely covered the necessities.
In 1892, on the streets of Homestead, guards
Opened fire on marching steel workers
Peacefully protesting the working conditions.
A great many marchers were killed or wounded.
Quite often, because of no women’s jobs,
Women would have to sell their bodies
For the cash to feed their children.
No one in authority seemed to care about this.
Pittsburgh remained a city of steel yet.
There were always replacements for those lost.
The women and children were the innocent bystanders
And suffered without any course of help.
Yes! A city of steel! Steel hearts, that is.
The Case of the Vanishing Voodoo
We like to believe that we are too sophisticated
for superstition
only then a Friday thirteenth,
will surely, as ever, call up
demons and fears
from the limbo of lost voodoos.
But, then again,
consider the quotation
From Shakespeare,
“There are more things…”*
*”There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy [science].”
CITY OF STEEL
A city of steel, it was called,
Also soot, smoke and grimy dirt.
In winter, sometimes it would snow
But the flakes would all be black.
The safety rules were so lax in mills,
One year more than a thousand men died.
Their widows received one hundred dollars.
Crippling injuries left thousands of men
Dependent on the charity of other workers.
The mill owners never cared for cripples.
Wages just barely covered the necessities.
In 1892, on the streets of Homestead, guards
Opened fire on marching steel workers
Peacefully protesting the working conditions.
A great many marchers were killed or wounded.
Quite often, because of no women’s jobs,
Women would have to sell their bodies
For the cash to feed their children.
No one in authority seemed to care about this.
Pittsburgh remained a city of steel yet.
There were always replacements for those lost.
The women and children were the innocent bystanders
And suffered without any course of help.
Yes! A city of steel! Steel hearts, that is.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“THE CASE OF THE VANISHING VOODOO” is included this week for World Thinking Day, February 22. The poem was never finished and has been edited for this release cutting a line referencing February 13, 1966.
REFRACTIONS—the poetry of Robert Roxby
“CITY OF STEEL” is included this week for World Day Of Social Justice, February 20. The author’s inspiration is likely Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The image of black snow is one he shared with his daughter regarding his memories of living in this city. The poem first appeared in the author’s collection, Reflections of a Lifetime.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“BLESS YOU” is included this week for February 20, National Love Your Pet Day. A photo of her dog, Opal, appears on the author’s Facebook page.
SPLINTERS FOR FEBRUARY 2023
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
GEOLOGIC SWING, A JAZZ LOVE SONG
Serpentine
mmm?
Tourmaline.
mmm-hmm?
Quartzite, calcite, jadite, pyrite
now you’re talkin’, baby
Obsidian, gypsum, mica, agate
lay it on me
Cenozoic, Archaeon, Hadean…
Pumice, magma, pyroclasts
you’ve got my pulses racin’
Stalagtite, batholith, phenocryst
Halide, carbonate, vitreous, silicate
sing to me, baby
Biotite, Muscovite, paragonite
that’s my song
Hornblende, olivine, feldspar, rhyolite
kiss, me, love me, I’m yours!
OFTEN NOW
Often now when the sun goes down
a sadness comes to touch my heart.
I think of our tender yesterday—
Memories weave their special art
A sadness comes to touch my heart
before the twilight afterglow.
Memories weave their special art—
I dream and watch the sun burn low
Before the twilight afterglow
can steal away the sunset hour
I dream and watch the sun burn low
and ponder on true love’s power
Before the twilight afterglow
I think of our tender yesterday
and sigh and let the sadness go,
often now when the sun goes down
NO NEED OF VALENTINES
Why should I need a paper valentine
As long as you are by my side—
Your eyes so brightly brilliant,
Cheeks so smoothly rosebud pink,
A mouth of liquid ruby red,
The joyfulness of childhood glee,
Hair so soft and wavy, walnut brown,
A heart so full of warming love?
What more could I possible ask
Of my very own perfect valentine?
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“OFTEN NOW” is a pantoum written in 1991 in response to poetry meeting suggesting the form included this week for Valentine’s Day. She wrote to her Round Robin poetry friends, “I seldom write a poem ‘on demand,’ so to speak, but thought this would be intriguing. I wanted to something light and with short line to represent the tom-tom…but, it’s not my thing. So, this is what I came up with. Not light, not short lines…just something. I think line 14 should perhaps rhyme with the last line, but it doesn’t. That’s not all wrong with this effort.”
REFRACTIONS—the poetry of Robert Roxby
“NO NEED OF VALENTINES” is included this week for Valentine’s Day. The valentine described is unknown. It might be a remembered early sweetheart, his daughter or simply a product of the author’s imagination. The poem first appeared in the author’s collection, Reflections of a Lifetime.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“GEOLOGIC SWING, A JAZZ LOVE SONG,” is included this week for Valentine’s Day. Geology is the author’s favorite science. She was fascinated by rocks from a very early age when her father unearthed a fossil rock in their backyard. She later saw another almost exactly the same in a museum listing the age of the specimen. She was stunned to realize her childhood find ranked in age with dinosaurs and older creatures. Her treasure was lost when her rock garden was dismantled after a black widow spider made its home there.
SPLINTERS FOR FEBRUARY 2023