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
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.)
“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,
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.
it had been predicted
the crime of your century
i would figure out
and do it justice
It was written
after many years of famine
and tragedy
the justice i did the crime of the century
would lead you to enlightenment
it was said
the lasting effects of my iron rod
would last for hundreds of years
known as the golden age
it was foretold
the last prophet of the world before jesus
returns at the end of earth when this was undone,
I would do this for you
and he would be annointed
so here it is
the mastermined war code
with potential to end your way of life
sucked into its center, a personal war against war,
in which war protests itself
spiralling out from the center of indifference
and miscommunication
to keep up with the supposed manipulation
the outside layers, a holy essence
as this beasts mission is to prevent itself
walking out with knowledge
to be scathed in your perfection
to take every good advice given in the mentioned cypher
to prevent the end of your life
in which your global enemies will be pinpointed
and peace on earth mastermined
My Iron rod
can be dangerous
for now i wield it with good intent
for now i teach you to come together in unity
to become a global success
this false prophet, dressed up as your historical legacy
this god complex, joke dressed in suicide
it was mentioned i would have an enemy
and with world peace for 300 years at stake
you would not tell them of this under rug swept prophecy
for your enemy to be realised
your global enemy responsible for all wars of earth
this warcode to protect everyone from their own foolery
walk away from this personal war with what is offered
for the next man i label as the antichrist,
may not be found as the blackmailed victom of your organisation
in the matrix of the underground,
the sleight of reality, belief and spirituality
the world deadlocked, and blackmailed for peace
I have an enemy
i t also happens that i have a rash
i am the prophet nostradamus predicted
the last one to be before the end of the world
i am here to lead you to the golden age
and then world peace
this will last for hundreds of years
but having an enemy
i am having difficulty accomplishing my heavenly task
Descending down the spiral steps to hell;
Acquiesced charcoal in phosphorous glow.
As if enchained by an enchantress’ spell;
Into the flames do I merrily go:
Endeared, the Master speaks ill of my worth
Before softened lips move closer t’wards I;
Lavender fragrance plumes lavishly forth -
My lungs become gills…her perfume is dry.
And as my squalid breath cries out for more
Some might proclaim of me that they’re aghast -
But does the ocean reach for sandy shore?
Such is the case.
As such:
My love is vast.
Thus, to the woman who still takes my breath -
My love will hold for you…until I’m held by death.
(I miss you)
---
1/29/2017