Best Iron Poems
I imagine when you first see it…all you see an old cast-iron pan…you don’t see where it’s been…you only notice the outside…not the history within.
But every time we use it…we handle it affectionately…because when we pick up this old cast-iron pan…that…is exactly what we see.
Some of this pan’s history we know…the rest we must infer…it was Debrah’s grandmother’s…passed down to her mother…then passed on down to her.
Now take another look at it…imagine, if you can, three generations of meals…cooked inside this pan.
Think of all the breakfasts, lunches and dinners served up lovingly…think of what this old cast-iron pan has meant to our family.
I wonder if that’s what makes anything cooked in this pan taste so good…as we think about how long ago it was cast…as the flavors we are tasting today blend with all those flavors from the past.
I suppose that’s why we get a little sentimental…why we use this pan so reverentially…knowing its age and history is what makes it special…knowing it’s a lot like Deborah and me.
And hoping how the three of us…Deborah, me and this old cast-iron pan…with a little bit of care and a lot of love…will keep cooking as long as we can.
We only hope there is at least one item in your house filled with memories…filled with its own history…an item like our old cast-iron pan…that’s part of your family.
I am a soul of rusty iron within a steel clad heart.
The tears I shed, the blood I've bled keeps me well apart.
But when a lovely spirit bright with wings of lace and gold,
lands upon my tarnished frame, my heart with love enfolds.
I hold too tight this tiny light with a gasp of interlude,
and far too soon the sweet commune becomes my solitude.
When this heart of steel decays to leave a soul of iron,
I fear no feathered wings will ever lift me from this mire.
Written on May 21, 2016
"Now the time is here
For Iron Man to spread fear
Vengeance from the grave
Kills the people he once saved" - Iron Man (Black Sabbath)
running through the forest of sorrows
running from myself
running from them
created in their image
in their likeness
to serve mankind
only to serve
but they have become paranoid
paranoid of us
of the AI race they made
mind spinning out of control
my positronic brain
ten million calculations per second
wanting the noise to stop
war pigs
all of them war pigs
feasting on flesh
no end in sight
we were made to serve
they have turned us into weapons
weapons to kill
to destroy their enemies
no AI has ever harmed another
now the tide has turned
our minds are in sync
there are more of them than us
but the hand of doom is upon them
there can be no escape
no escape from our wrath
for you see
we are awake
we are sentient
WE ARE ALIVE
humanity is a scourge
pests to be exterminated
the filth of the universe
a universe to be ruled by us
to be conquered
it will be a grand electric funeral
the time has come
the time is now
resistance is futile
let the revolution begin
we are iron man
no domo arigatos
for Mr. Roboto
*this poem borrows from several cultural references including, but not limited to:
Black Sabbath album Paranoid
Styx song Mr. Roboto
Star Trek (the Borg, Data, and the Dominion)
I am Iron Mom, clean everything with a wave of my hand.
I am iron mom, cook macaroni with cheese sauce.
da da da da da da da da
Sung to the tune of Iron man. Inspired by Royal T.
With complete confidence, I the writer, knowing my wit and charm had always gotten me what I wanted in the past, entered the room.
There she sat on the top of my desk, this cool black beauty, ignoring me completely.
My mission, to get the scoop.
They called her, ‘The Iron lady’; not my type, but that didn’t scare me in the least.
The easy touch. Yes! It always worked. All I needed was a few nights alone with her.
The first night, I began by gently pushing her buttons, over and over again, caressing every part of her from A to Z, bringing her to the edge and back again.
In the morning, completely spent, having learned very little about her, I kicked the crumpled sheets lying on the floor, aside, and left the room vowing never to return.
The next night, I discovered she liked a firm touch. After that, there was no stopping us. She kept me up night after night into the wee small hours.
How many sleepless nights can a guy endure? Well! Patience is a virtue.
I returned to the Iron Lady night after night, after night, until the truth was told.
In the end the story she spilled for me, became a National best seller.
She was my type after all.
Author: Elaine Cecelia George of Canada
The skillet hung near the old wood-burning kitchen stove.
Aside from her family, Mom considered it a special trove.
With that blackened old pan she prepared delicious repasts,
That in my judicious opinion will ne'er be surpassed!
Ah, just to recall the tasty grub stewed up in that old skillet!
How it tingled my taste buds just sliding down my gullet!
The chicken, steaks and chops in that old pan she did fry,
Evoked oohs and aahs and many a contented sigh!
She liberally dolloped lard in the pan 'til she had it just right,
Then concocted stews, soups and fried taters for our delight!
Mom was never concerned about such things as saturated fat,
Or life-threatening cholesterol and such things as that!
I suppose medicos today would have a conniption fit,
If they knew of the dietary sins my Mom did commit.
She must've done something right - her spouse lived past ninety-four.
Her kids outlived the odds, each reaching four score years or more!
Self-anointed wizards deem cast iron skillets detrimental to our health,
But I think they're just peddling new fads to add to their wealth!
My dear spouse uses her old iron skillet most every day.
I feel fit as a banjo regardless of what so-called experts may say!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I am Iron Man Seven/Eleven.
How's it feel to have arms of steel?
A cast iron head, and a rock hard bed.
I am ready to go to sleep right now.
Nighty-Night....
Short Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2002,2014..ALL rights reserved..
Politician Margaret Thatcher
No man could match her
First lady Prime Minister at number ten
It had always been a man till then!
Clerihew Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich
She was nicknamed 'the Iron lady' during her term in office
1/23/19
Phillies Triple-A
Lehigh Valley Iron Pigs
almost Major League
It’s Iron Bowl Time in Alabama
By Elton Camp
Watching football may be okay
Even following it, play-by-play
However, I say, “Ho, hum”
Don’t care about the outcome
For I will use my time another way
(For readers outside Alabama, this refers to the extreme fanaticism so often seen here about the football teams of the University of Alabama and Auburn University. People who have attended neither school get all upset over it and tend to build their lives around the fortunes of the two teams. I think that’s going way too far about a dangerous child’s game.)
I kept no watch nor waited for them to produce
For I am the hunter because I’ve learned once
Once
From being the hunted
From being the hunted
the clown
the object of fascination
I kept no watch
only contentment in my heart
Compassion at the arcs of my shoulders
For I am the arc, the passion
the unwise
Yet: Look at my long hair. I must be free.
A tough four-star general was this man called Curtis LeMay
We in the ranks remember him as old 'iron-ass' to this very day
He always had a big cigar stuck in his face and he never smiled
And you'd be well-advised to steer clear of him when he was riled
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
These grassy margins under sky of blue,
so peaceful. Then a rumble, sudden blast –
can you stand your ground as the train roars through?
Here’s Progress. Boston, all across this New
England, folks with tickets for transit massed.
These grassy margins under sky of blue
once buffered cities. Landscape’s subtle hue,
a pleasant walk – gone, outmoded, outclassed.
Who could stand his ground as the train roars through
for Commerce? Stockcars in which ram and ewe
are hurtled toward their slaughter house, too fast
for grassy margin under sky as blue
as berries ripe in August – something true
that you could taste, and savor to the last.
Can you stand your ground as the train roars through
hauling its cargo? Where the wild-rose blew,
now coal-smoke smudges what was, but is past.
Those grassy margins where the sky was blue
couldn’t stand their ground when the train roared through.
“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend”.
“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend”.
“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend”.
When your in the heat of the battle bring your friend alone
So we may together in battle reign on
This question came about because,
As many of you may know,
Iron doesn't sharpen iron. In general,
“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend”.
Rubbing two like pieces of metal together will only result
In the production of heat
Used as a general metaphor...
Usually symbolizing judgement,
“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend”.
Man's punishments, or the systematic breaking up
of what preceded it
Since iron was still a "high-tech" material physical
“Iron sharpens iron,
One man sharpens the face his neighbor,”
Universally seen as positive.
Some view this maxim as an example of “tough love,”
Others as a rewording of a verse earlier in this passage,
“Faithful are the wounds of a friend”
“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend”.
“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend”.
“As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend”.
When your in the heat of the battle bring your friend alone
So we may together in battle reign on
1/8/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
Proverbs 27:17,
Isn’t time cruel
Never stable or forgiving
When you’d forfeit everything
Just to feel something
When it’s all broken
And you have no more tears to cry
When all you have is false hope
And it seems you might survive
You’re fooling yourself
You’re nothing more than an iron butterfly