A little piece of insight in my own work and style (maybe not to be taken to seriously, but it was a joy writing it and absolutely not looking at it before I hit the publish-button in 10 seconds from..... NOW!)


Blacksmith Poetry

I am not a poet
By god, Iíll never be
But this is how I communicate
The things inside of me

I never think, I hammer out
The swords, the knives and spears
But every time I stop and think
I need to use the shears

I write my greasy serenades
And self-destructive songs
To free my inner being
That for this freedom longs

I never tend to read again
The poems to correct
The relevance is absolute
And all the thoughts are set

If I would ever think again
The "poem" would be dead
And I would look with annoyance
I'd call my brain a piece of bread

A hammered sword once itís cooled
Should never be warmed again
The steel would be corrupted
Its strength canít be regained

You see madness is beauty
When it comes in a roll of dices
And hatred is accomplishment
If you choose the path of slices

Itís not hard to figure irony
When you are born a blacksmith
But to find sarcasm in happiness
Is easy for those who live it




Poetry by Cr4Ky
Read 347 times
Written on 2010-02-14 at 03:11

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NicholasG
Having worked many hours on red hot metal, I enjoyed this one.
Thanks, Nick
2010-02-14