Iron, that malleable thing
can be forged in fashion first seen in smithy’s mind.
He fires and draws
punches and bends
smites and cuts and fires again
each stay in the coals increases the iron’s tenderness
redsorangesyellowswhites glow like comets, traverse the darkness
Sparks sap resistance.
Hammer clangs, first to iron, then to steel it’s song of change,
Is it hammer or anvil that claims victory?
Or the iron that yields — with or without its will?
Anvil, that ancient force uses me to play its song and
there is no melody without the suffering of strikes.
Good smiths let the iron do its bending with
just … gentle …guidance.
Force and blow do something to the soul and
there are strikes that can never be corrected. Once made
they live forever in the iron…
hidden… silent… waiting…
for the next repair when
hope foments change and
Crack
all is lost and left lying on the anvil
in disgrace.
Copyright ©: Olga Dytyniak
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Шекспир – День без тебя казался ночью – Сонет 43
- Sonnet Xvi Who Shall Invoke Her
- Sonnet 123: No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change by William Shakespeare
- I Call That True Love by Shel Silverstein
- Olney Hymn 36: Afflictions Sanctified By The Word by William Cowper
- In Defense poem – Ambrose Bierce poems | Poems and Poetry
- Woman In Front Of Poster Of Herself poem – Alice Notley
- Feelings Of A Noble Biscayan At One Of Those Funerals by William Wordsworth
- Николай Огарев – Осеннее чувство
- By A Norfolk Broad
- Robert Burns: Address Of Beelzebub: To the Right Honourable the Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society, which met on the 23rd of May last at the Shakespeare, Covent Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders, who, as the Society were informed by Mr. M’Kenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property they were, by emigrating from the lands of Mr. Macdonald of Glengary to the wilds of Canada, in search of that fantastic thing-Liberty.
- Юргис Балтрушайтис – Метель
- Алексей Николаевич Толстой – Купальские игрища
- Elegy, Imitated From One Of Akenside’s Blank-Verse Inscriptions by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- Why do ye torture me? by Patrick Pearse
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
