Best Forger Poems
The mind of God
populates a universe
there is no distance between
the maker and the made
the expression and the source –
The Almighty speaks
and the sum of Him listens –
responds with creative elegance
we are designed by The Master
formed by the grace of His
Generous Heart, in the studio
of His Divine Nature
Love is His Template
love moves the brush
that blushes and highlights
Love sculpts and contours
refines and presents
The Forger of all canvases
and their gold-leaf frames –
the Architect of breath-full theaters, our
adorned castles of enchanting showcase
we inhabit, exalt, and are blessed to
personally proclaim –
we are living portraits...may
we animate, promoting deep
respect for the Munificent Artist of All
Being – Our Daily Bread! Amen.
I just found your last letter to me,
And read it while watching a blazing sunset,
Emulating the happy sun you drew in your letter.
Ten years almost to the day, you killed yourself,
I'm left with sadness, a cerulean sky,
And passing clouds, toasted orange,
Like heated iron in a blacksmiths forge.
You were a forger of enthusiasm, bipolar some say,
Yes maybe but by any standard extraordinary,
Up down like a sea saw, making words from polystyrene.
An extraordinary life, an extraordinary death,
An extraordinary sunset.
©dbyrne Jan 2015
A red rose in a white rose’s tree,
How unique could this be,
For the first time I see,
A red rose in a white rose’s tree
For how long will the red rose last?
Did it blossom in the past?
I wish it wouldn’t wither fast,
For how long the red rose will last
Should I pick the red rose for her?
Maybe this rose lasts forever,
Will it be missed by her forger?
Should I pick the red rose for her?
Perhaps the red rose must stay.
I am glad I saw it today,
she may bloom next May,
Perhaps the red rose must stay
A red rose in a white rose’s tree,
Can be so rare, but for me
There is more beauty and glee:
A red rose in a white rose’s tree
The poet was walking with his grandfather when he saw two rose’s trees, with entangled branches; therefore a red rose seemed to flourish in a white rose’s tree. Then those jiggling lines were naturally suggested. After sitting in the silent and peaceful inside of a mosque, with paper and pen, he wrote verses which mixed the red rose with the rare muse by him loved.
Form:
“The Hand that Rocks the Cradle is the Hand That Rules the World”
by William Ross Wallace
Oh! Woman
Aren’t you God’s supreme handiwork?
An animated form of chiseled art
A joy to behold
A figure of curvaceous ups and downs
God’s beautiful calligraphy
You are love incarnate
Your eyes reflecting warmth and gentleness
Smoothening the rough edges of life
A loving daughter to your parents
An adorable mate to your man
A forgiving mother to all
The procreating womb of mankind
The forger of destiny
One who turns barren terrains,
Into blooming verdant meadows
The fountain spring of life
In every drop of adversity,
Glistening like a diamond
With a divine spark that lies dormant
In broad daylight, but beams and blazes
In the dark hours of adversity
Though you are fickle and frail in many eyes
You’re strong enough to withstand all the shocks
And delicate enough to bend and bow
Sweet enough to draw everyone to your charm
Tough enough to bear extra burden
You have a heart very deep
To hold gallons of liquid love
And a mind patient enough
To forbear all rebukes
You are blessed with a temperament
Willing to forgive and forget
You are warm enough
To kiss away all tears
You bear the seeds of progeny
You are the powerhouse of strength and healer of woes
With the magic talisman to cure the bleeding hearts
You are the great MOTHER to all
Sister, friend, mate and guide- all rolled into one
April.3.2022
~ Placed First~
Tribute to Women Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Beata Augustin
Trying to live
in this world
Life the impossible
art form
Gathering strength
in the storms
Losing it all
in a moment
Loving with all
that I have
Love the incomparable
marvel
Pain its inseparable
partner
A murderer of novice and
practiced lovers alike
A forger of indelible
spirits
My spirit has yet
to be wielded
I die in this script-less
play
No role can ever
be mastered
Life is a droplet in the sea
After death will at least we be free
The nice thing about the sea
Is it has no memory
But that to
Is not exactly true
Life began in the sea
So it has long memory
It would remember it all
If it had a soul
When you put seashell to the ear
The ocean waves humming you will hear
There is great deal of life in the sea
Some of mesmerizing beauty
But sea itself has no life
So it remembers no pain or strife
One man went to sea
To face his destiny
He thought only fury
Of crashing waves would make him free
But then he would see
That he was master of his destiny
He thought to himself there is still fight left in me
I’ll find the meaning to set me free
I don’t have to die in this sea
I’ll be the forger of my destiny
I’ll find the ultimate meaning and will be free
And this will forever be written in memory of the sea
astronomers often describe
the path of their heavenly ride
far off in the distant night sky
defining what's higher than high
luminous wavelength emitters
heavenly hosts all aglitter
lost in gravitational trance
each dancing unique cosmic dance
charted starlight guiding the way
for ships sailing from bay to bay
Polaris, bright northerly guide
let Vikings plunder far and wide
bored dreamers plotted vague outlines
of gods sending out godly signs
marching celestial civilians
filling up space in the trillions
worshiped by ancient Egyptians
forger of earthly existence
ubiquitous light in darkness
warmth amid bitter cold harshness
no need for divine directive
only eclipsed by perspective
center of systems of being
without stars life's not worth seeing
how will it all happen and how will it end
reflect before you act
well it all just depends
of the consequence of the impact
have you hit rock bottom
tryin to win the race
forgot where you came from
every thing you thought got misplaced
need to sit down and listen
respect isn't given or for free
taking time to pay attention
it comes taxed with loyalty
when you don't know where your going
never forger where you been
everyone has something to say about what im doing
and see I benn doin this since back when
sabrina ann espanio
02-20-19
9703636332
Time is a betrayer
Sometimes, its a player
It would betray you
And you'd blame yourself
It can misrepresent you
So that you'd forger yourself
Time chases you everywhere
It comes on your heels
Just like an armed robber
So you better gotta to be wise
In all your dealings with time
As for me, this piece I'd always revise
So I can learn to dance on the rhyme
Time is a master
Sometimes, it's tester
It would lead you
And you'd betray yourself
It can mistreat you
So that you'd even hate yourself
Time ceases every situation
It is like an ambush in the night
That can betray your precious life
So you better gotta be very wise
In the manner you deals with time
You can keep this piece and revise
So you can dance to the rhythm of the rhyme
Time is a betrayer
I believe it is a player
This is why am being fast
To be count before the last
I am ceasing every opportunity
To gather all my people in unity
Time is running just too fast
So we better gotta be wise
To interpret every single rhyme
Because time is never gonna wait
Its moving on and so straight
Come on now my people!
We must wake up and make a move
Before time betrays our trust.
Indestructible you
Endowed provocateur of origination
Forger of paths unknown
Awaken
Yesterday was an option
Today a decision
Tomorrow will come
Eventually
Head high
Shoulders up
Walk
Fear is perception
Defeat is an illusion
Perverse as it is
Fills a void
To incentivize the outcome of glory
For as long as you walk
Deceiving external predictors, you prosper
Enticing hate and curiosity
From your resistance to fall prey to darkness
If perhaps you stumble
Along the way
No worries
That is the way
Have you ever seen
The portrait of a dog
Painted on the road,
Not in the great tradition
Of living colours as you’d
Expect, but in all the
Terror and detail of
An untimely death?
Have you ever seen
The sketch of an imposing house
Rendered not in vibrant charcoal
But the coal of shattered
Hopes and burnt out hulks-
The work of the Great Artist above
Or the mean imitation of an earthly forger?
Have you ever seen
The picture of an ocean beach
With dark waters lapping
The fish-laid shore,
Not the magnum opus of
A master in oils; but
The work of an oil slick?
Have you ever seen
These great Works of Art?
And have you ever wondered why
You had to be
The great portrait
Of a Master Caricaturist?
Ran Into A Dolph
(Member of our church.)
Were in church when we ran into a Dolph;
What we did was start calling him Randolph,
And great Scott,
We got caught,
Eating our meals out of Saint James trough.
Jim Horn
Standing Shooting the Breeze
We were standing around shooting the breeze,
When we had started talking about family trees;
Forger your belief;
Check every leaf,
While wondering how much would be the fees.
Jim Horn
Trump Can Be Corrupt
After selecting meal and on it had supped,
Was bad and the we would start to erupt;
Terrible words used,
And badly abused;
Turns out Trump had been highly corrupt.
Jim Horn
A Trump Catalyst
There is another thing I cannot resist;
We would like to see a Trump catalyst;
No change noted;
For min not voted;
Remained in hiding and him we missed.
Jim Horn
Woe unto you,
scribes and Pharisees,
hypocrites!
Matt. 23:13
You tell men that God has changed,
that the Holy Ancient One today is not the same
Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!
Your written and spoken words are the forger of chains
With your unrighteous pens,
you’ve swapped out the word of God,
and inserted the traditions of men
Saying that the children should be honored,
and not the parents
Woe woe woe to you hypocrites!
Blind guides leading the blind,
and you’re both gonna fall into a ditch
Open up the bottomless pit,
and watch ‘em all fall in
Lovers of unrighteousness,
practitioners of sin
Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!
You bear rule over the people,
teaching them things that are not good
in the sight of God
Teaching them to respect wickedness,
to give praise to the voices that speak not right
Telling them to walk naked in the dark,
to put out the candles that give forth light
Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!
Your written and spoken words are the killer of men
Dip your pens in the blood ink ...
do testify against yourselves —
Condemned souls whose names are blotted out
of the Book of Life
Dip your pens once again in the blood ink ...
do testify against yourselves —
When your souls get destroyed in an eye blink
My life is meaning less,
coz, i cant do anything for anyone so far,
it's true,that i always want to do something new,
for what,one day i will shine like a star'
I saw birth,i saw death,
I saw some people to take their final breath.
After they die
makes some people cry
but one day they will forger everything,
even from their memory,the give them buy.
But some people i know,
who gave their life,
to invent something new,
for the sake of the human tribe.
This is called bravery,
this is called life,
I want to be like them,
that's why i pray everyday.
Form:
Fireflies beacons, nomad, I quest
Thrusting dagger deep into night
Afterglow, apparitions that fest
Dancing in the wake, and they fade away, when pulling out the knife
Forlorn my laden soul, it is a walking corpse
Stride I, battle broken and weary worn… betwixt these nether plains
My own body, the beggar of death, as I travel upon this barren orb?
To seek solace and purge myself of these arrows of pain
Cease! Ole burdens of the dragon’s fire or mares of knotting noose
Mercy, Lord, mercy! Extinguish its flame!
Relieve my hopes that dwell upon the hangman’s truce
One last breathe I beg, the next will break these chains
Am I not within thine favor but, I still the puppet that looms?
Sundials seem slower turn, balance of power within the hourglass sifts
Morns now within the past, blood red skies surround the birthing moons
Then earthly shadows realign, transfix to specters smile, grins the eclipse
Nigh tides of newer judgments will thou not find?
Seize I, Smith through your molten molds, can I not be recast?
To pure, liken the worn out golden coin?
Fiery furnace the hotter, all but ore be turned to ash
Forger, honing of His industrious craft
Reshapes the glowing mass
With hammer strikes anvil forms a newly awakened man
This time the heart of steel, that once was one of shattered glass