Museum of Science and Industry

Additional poems by members of Museum staff can be downloaded from the right-hand side of this page.

Shuttle

It has a rhythm like a heart beat,
As it rattles a path through its web
of threads. A rhythm that can lull you
into a false sense of security
until the thread breaks.

A noise like a machine gun, shooting
across, like a bullet with a soft heart;
carrying its cargo of cotton
back and forth, over and under
the fastest thing around.

A lot depends on this small part,
empires built on its abilities,
hundreds of hands just to make its thread;
great machines paralysed without it.
It can make or break you.

Smooth and polished from many years
of hands, many lips kissing the shuttle.
Part of the secret language of workers,
tied to their machines, tied to the shuttle.
Everything begins here.

By Sarah Roe, Janet Collins-Bailey, Helen Clare