Documentary Poetry
 In the late 1960s United Kingdom's first major oil finds were discovered in The North Sea. In the '70s surging development began. By the late '80s the U.K. became the world's 2nd largest off-shore oil producer. An ever flowing river of men cascaded to and
worked for liquid gold. For gold, be it liquid or solid, men have always taken risks, against all odds, against nature, against all warnings.
| Obituary in Oil by Magda Palmer Cordingley. The Oil Rigger's body lay sprawled in the Void, a great hole gaped in his skull; he thought and he saw and he knew of his plight, as did the marauding gull. His soul saw the bird and borrowed its wingsto hover above the frame, the frame that lay prostrate in the Void, of the oilman without a name. The Void was not a void as you'd know it, 'twas an alley-way joining two modules through which you can get from one side to the other of platforms where men worked as mules. Then through the gull's eyes the soul saw the grids, the grids where his old home lay; the grids that spanned the void, with the sea underneath, eighty feet away. The Oil Man had come amongst thousands of others, frustrated with life's meagre food, his hunger had brought him to North Sea rigs hoping money may buy some good. The soul-harnessed seagull flew down to the man-to the rigger who lay where he fell, full pride swelled the chest of this soul-harnessed bird to know in this man he did dwell. The dread noisy diesels kept up their tirade, needed they were that they knew; So devils drove orchestras pounding the head; stenching columns of fine greyish-blue. The soul simply smiled, for he knew that this man,desperate in search for life, had accepted - no loved - the diesel's crude sound, as a comforting, talkative wife. The heave of the barge on unreasonable waves, that first made the rigger spew, gave the soul of the man lying out in the Void understanding grasped only by few. Then the soul stirred in the willing sea bird, helped to open its wings in flight; took swift to the air and circled on high surveying the Derrick-Man's might. Long pipe, many stands up to ninety feet tall, stacked in the derrick in rows, the derrick-man swings out, up, down in turn, eternally in rhythm he goes. The derrick-man knew of his mate in the void, but naught could the derrick-man do but swing in the block; place the pipe once again,lost rhythm would lose all the crew. The men laboured on not aware of the bird so solitary standing by, Roughnecks and Roustabouts worked hard and fast capping drills, lest oil let fly. High tension was mounting, like bushfire spreading,excitement exploding hot grit. Wild eyes, lustrous eyes signalled oilmen knew the drill was about to hit! "This spirit of Odin, a force to be reckoned, Vikings returned", the soul mused; "They fought and these fight on the very same sea, by abominable weather abused". The hum and the whine of the drill in its case, teeth gnawing the ocean floor reminded the soul of a tormented head, so he spread his wings once more. He touched down beside the Rigger still sprawled, followed the still man's gaze to the flare-stack that glared and hurt tired eyes, brilliant and hard through haze. Catastrophes past made the bird cock his head, he'd witnessed with awful fear many flocks of his kind eaten fast by the flame when vicious winds blew too near. But expressed through the eyes of the man at rest amber sweetened the callous flame, made soft, swirling patterns rotate round the void, hurried fierceness out in shame. Now pondered the soul on the comradeship learned by an oil-rig crew, one man on his own could do nothing but fall, united they stood, this they knew. It appeared the rich oil cast up from its nest, like a prisoner released from chains, burst forth with full thanks and anointed each man, captured, then nourished their brains. Brains undernourished by place of their birth, as a Docker’s son born to write, destination in common, providing a sanction, tough sufferers yearning light. The soul-harnessed sea gull stood strong by his man, this man whose subconscious had led through turbulent waters off Scotland's wild shores to riches of North Sea bed. Like the flare-stack he strained against winds of time, held by internal strength; one thing in common with flare-stack and bird - force, plus life, plus length. Self produced rainbows, by flare-stack's warm current, draw moisture up from the sea, so gull took his lesson and drew from the depths, inhaling, he claimed victory. The oil rigger's body lay sprawled in the void, a great hole gaped in his skull; His soul thought and saw and knew of his plight, as did the marauding gull. The bird and the soul with its borrowed wings, hovered above the frame, Then released, reunited and waited to be the oilman with every man's name. |
Maya Angelou quotes (American Poet, b.1928)