Best Ironworks Poems
Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans
To see the ironworks filled with flowers supreme
To gaze the Mississippi on calm felled days
Then wonder how youth suddenly slipped away
Do you Know what it means to miss New Orleans?
Categories:
ironworks, absence,
Form:
Rhyme
A mountain of grounded rock reaching to the skies
A rabbit burying into a whole
A pig building a house of straw
Why, concrete little pig, brick and sweat
A tree, untrimmed and ungainly
Buzzing insects, foaming with diseases and the chance of death
A mound of sand
A sand castle
A poor sign of engineering
Yet fit for a queen
Build straight pathways, not curving halls little ant
Your purpose is there, it s your efficiency that is in question
Take note from the concrete, the velvet and the vibrating
The ironman working the ironworks in the ironmine
Purpose, purpose, purpose
He earns her iron dollar
They raise their iron children
Time rusts their flawed iron hearts
The silver tongued king rules his copper minded people
The golden patience of time rules the silver tongued king
The velvet soft lover wrestles with the friction of passion
The ninety nine year old Nazi is killed for his crimes
The copper minded populace cheers
Some shed fake diamond tears
And we spin our web of lies
Our empire of cobwebs, time formed truths
Threatened by the subtle breeze of our patient host
True diamond patience of Earth
So the philosopher asks
Riddles with himself
Earth hast no purpose but to be
And to be without purpose is not our way
Yet we unfurl our carpet in its chambers of torrents
And build our houses of straw, and build our mountains of steel
And we expect to persevere
So this purposeless world
Moulded of chance and mutation
It sits by, without reasons to impede
It sits by, as time hammers at its walls, a purposeless measure, the ticking of a clock
The clock ticks, yet the batteries have long passed, the maker long dead
Still we build; a raging force in the calm of chaos
The solidarity of this fortress called earth, the permanence of its chaos
Is challenged by a rusty blade
The blade rises against the mountain, no eyes to see the foolishness of its act
Its precise slashes chipping away at the uneven granite
The blade chips, the dead clock ticks
The mountain sits
© Samir Georges 2009
Categories:
ironworks, imagination, nature, people, philosophytime,
Form:
Free verse
only things grown in the ground remain
but mismatched without the hand of man
see that they dodge beautiful
their languishing longitudinal vegetable bodies
never suffer fracture the stems with fruits
and their armor and weapons, bark and branches
trees
no, I didn't think our past was decent
humans
if you ask me about those days of debauchery
we were building ourselves up like the men we now are
with wars and ironworks asps vertices vortices cusps
and it was discovered that it is easy to be reborn another
improvement is advisable
there is only one exit after a wall called brain
then the field we learned to cultivate
now this is what we are having mastered cultivation
homunculi like scattered tares sprouting without end
the power of some being the downfall of others
history built with annihilations
and then the progress
the home appliances
microwave TV freezer wire and electricity
then bytes and bits
now nanoeverything
tomorrow AI and nothing more.
Categories:
ironworks, analogy, future,
Form:
Free verse