Broken Dreams Aren’t Always What They Seem – A Miner’s Tale
Broken dreams aren’t what they seem
A directional shift, some call a hidden gift
When what you thought, isn’t what you got
Rather a brand new seed, for what you need
Farming life causes too much strife
Hard-packed ground, no water to be found
Misery and dust, and suddenly you’re bust
No wood to burn and nowhere to turn
It’s a test of life, but at the point of a knife
Some men react, while others retract
Either, change and move, try to improve
Become a priest or maybe head back east
Or wipe away the tears, ignore the fears
Stop your draggin’, and get on the wagon
We’re heading west; it’s another test
Don’t bitch or moan, and don’t postpone
Dust your knuckles and grab your shovels
Picks and pans; some food in cans
No girls or wife; it’s a miner’s life
Everything’s on hold until we strike gold
Load up your horse and get on the course
There’s a need for speed as we chase the greed
The rush is on, we should already be gone
Gotta get there first afore our efforts turn cursed
After a lengthy ride and a sore backside
California at last; now we dig and blast
Pan and sift, working twelve hour shifts
While flakes and dust seem to earn our trust
If that hidden nugget makes it to our bucket
Like a railroad to the mother lode
We’ll jump and hoot, wear out our boots
Count those chickens, and keep on diggin’
It’s a real achievement to keep the find a secret
If the word gets out, others will soon be about
Gotta stake the claim, that’s the name of the game
But load your gun, in case we’re overrun
It’s a dangerous game, but its money and fame
Almost nightmarish, and some will perish
Broken dreams and get rich schemes
Lives bought and sold, for a nugget of gold
Additional Reading
California Gold Rush – Discovery at Sutter’s Mill
- When We Lost Control - October 13, 2025
- The Crumbling Space Around Me - October 10, 2025
- Sorrow - October 9, 2025
Great and fast-moving lines that tell the real story of a miner’s life. Well done, Ralph.
Ralph I was reminded of the folk from Virginia City when I read your poem. Some busted and broken and others reaching fame still read in the folklore. In the 80’s here in Nevada I would hike in the Washoe Hills where we were taught to avoid any property with stakes. The miners were just as willing to shoot you as the old days with the same desire to find and keep Gold and Silver. Great poetry Ralph. Jamie
Love your poetic tale of a miner’s life. I can hear Loretta Lynn singing Coal Miner’s Daughter.