The One-eyed King

The young boy should have shown fear

At the frightful sight of the ancient Collier

With one eye. But the old man – Hen ddyn –

No lie, was a friend. Edwin his name: ‘Rich friend.’

The kind to bend a knee to, perhaps. A King.

Truth, of course, he was the one who was

Bent, warped, shrivelled, maimed –

By long years toiling under the green,

Tapping the black, the reluctant vein

Giving up its yield to the deep delvers

’Neath the slate-grey hills of Cambria.

Edwin George was his name. ‘Kingy’ George.

A vigorous young man, of unassuming nobility,

two hands, two feet, two ears, two eyes (at first)

labouring honestly through the reign,

of two English monarchs – his Namesakes.

(Let’s draw a Veil o’er the one in between

Who came to the Valleys and proclaimed:

‘Something must be Done’

Before he himself was Undone,

For the sake – so he said – of Love).

No such easy choice for Kingy;

The pit the only palace, the dray his only throne.

The hacking cough, the demon-black spittle,

The creaking knee and crumbling bone

The only legacy, the final reward

For a life spent fuelling the life-blood of Empire.

Gnarled hands, barely capable of unscrewing the bottle

Of dandelion and burdock that the boy so loved;

Or dealing from the deck of cards

As he taught him the intricacies of crib.

Small comfort in such simple joys,

Before the final pegging out.

The boy never learnt how Kingy lost that eye,

How the weregild for wisdom was paid by this Welsh Odin –

No ravens to guide his Thoughts and Memories,

But, rather, racing pigeons. Cooing from their cots,

Flying free, escaping the confines of cloddish earth.

No dank mines for these graceful expressions

Of an old Collier’s desire to be free.

Long did the boy ponder the meaning

Of that name. Till at last he remembered

That ’In the land of the blind,

The one-eyed man is king’.

In Memory of Kingy George - old collier, neighbour, and friend.

Commentary: Edwin' Kingy' George lived across the road from me throughout my childhood. Edwin is an Anglo-Saxon name, meaning 'rich friend'; which is somewhat ironic, because Kingy certainly didn't possess any wealth to speak of. But then again, he WAS rich in friendship. The British monarchs alluded to in the poem are George V and VI - and the king who controversially reigned for less than twelve months between them, in 1936 - Edward VIII. The ravens are the constant companions of the one-eyed Norse God Odin - Huginn and Muninn - 'Thought' and 'Memory'.