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Literature Text
I swing a feather-light hammer
Upon an anvil of canvas
Scarred with rejected words
My forge is one of wood
Alight with cold flames
Fed by coals of dust
The pale glow illuminates my work
Feeble as paper
Yet strong as stone
I lay my tools aside
I breathe life into my creation
I watch it grow beyond me
This is how the forge works
This is where I create worlds unimaginable
Upon an anvil of canvas
Scarred with rejected words
My forge is one of wood
Alight with cold flames
Fed by coals of dust
The pale glow illuminates my work
Feeble as paper
Yet strong as stone
I lay my tools aside
I breathe life into my creation
I watch it grow beyond me
This is how the forge works
This is where I create worlds unimaginable
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Literature
...
what's the point of china, if it
never gets used. just sits on
the shelf, collecting dust.
that's all were good for
anyways,
the looks.
then we break.
[i'd pour you a cup of tea right now,
but it's really poison .]
Literature
All Shall Recede
Sand Castles will succumb
To the tides of tomorrow,
And the dandelion’s seeds
Are at mercy to the winds.
The sea ice is melting,
Meanwhile forests fall.
In an eventual anomaly,
The Moon will break adrift.
Somehow and someday,
All will fade away.
Children break off from parents
Just as chicks will leave the nest.
Development of independence
Breeds beginnings and ends.
We grow old and decompose
In a relative nanosecond
In contrast to space time;
Fascinatingly frightful.
However strongly we wish to deny;
Eventually all must bid goodbye.
Departure is unfortunate,
Regretful yet required.
Life is forged from greetings
Then propelled by fa
Literature
I Came as an Echo
I came as an echo.
My sound, often tenuous, sometimes tepid,
festers in the hollow of my aching throat: a vessel for uncommitted actions.
I travel, ricocheting along thick foliage, stone walls, and mountaintops,
eagerly searching for a comfortable grave
in the rusted-red sky, the burnt, sinking Sun,
where the stars await my last, dissipating cry.
The moon scoops me up and
dusts my murmurs across the centuries.
I whisper to her, “I came as an echo;
I depart as ash.”
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Someone asked me what my new username means. Well, maybe this will answer that question.
© 2013 - 2024 Infinite-Word-Forge
Comments8
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Well, I wish I had a good of username as you do, but it's simply my initials.
Nice poem, good flow.