Short Anvils Poems

satin founts spouting 
thunderous anvils clanging
charged ions exploding...

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The Gods
Shall not
Put their hammers down
Mending souls, against the anvils,
Without a sound
Hidden realm of the Gods...

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open roads
Where broken paths seemed closed
Open roads spring anew

Crystal castles vibrate
World as stage 
Within the hero’s rage 

Anvils sparks engaged
Where steel is forged
Within the alchemy of 
Burning flames

Tormented on threads
Of severed chords
Circles pass over
The changeless change...

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Children passing through the valley of death

Their chatter amplified by the facades of closing in betrayal

They fear no evil that teaches them to be silent 

And pay attention to imaginary platitudes scratched into the cave wall

What's for lunch? Windows windows windows, traffic and windows. 

The walk home is worse; gets heavier each passing day....

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In flux are temperance of today
capacitance changing ways
impurities slag to slowly fade
forging what may made

Anvils ring as hammers strike
developing strength from efforts might
sword of truth is spirits flight
above the vulgar earthly fight

Excalibers legend sword in stone
awaits the faithful to atone
arise the self to royal heights
comfort found in heavenly delight.......

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Ice on the petal -a shadow slides in
Broadsiding virgin light is what shadows do best

As emotions summit, this is the time to dread most
when hearts are hammered 
by devilish anvils
coaxed along by blue ghosts. 

Gray attics are where all memories will lay
panic lives just below in a distraction called.. 
a new day

Ice on the petal
in the middle of heat waves
salted blackbirds halo the grave....

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KITCHEN NECTAR

How sweet the walls must taste
when cuisines and anvils fuse about the place
and spices unite from every orient
How beautiful the arc must be
between the vulcan chefs
when spoons and hammers vulcanize
above the temple floor
How enhancing is a sight
when once invention comes
and swinging doors emit a sound
like some nebulous light
Could cohesion cause a glow?
Revelry and invention could you know
Or is it spoons arcing in the air
to weld a plate below...

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WORD-SMITH 

As we forge all-over
Burning words like silver
Pouring inks like lava

Blasting papers like rods
Gripping pen like swords
Battling wrought like gods 

Considering the rallies
Even in the Abyss
Amidst the bees 

Till our mallets make hit
Till the anvils shape it
Till purpose feel the heat

To all the writers sweating...
Don't stop writing...
Wordsmiths keep forging...

©kporho Vwede Daniel
Ig:
General_Ali_Official
+2347067333949

All rights reserve...

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