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The Color of Iron

The morning awakes most cloudy and dark,
gray billowy skies forming into an arc,
ominous weather now posing a murky destiny,
as the blacksmith sips black coffee from his crockery.

Preparing his thoughts for the day’s vocation
a journeyman gruffly enters to the kitchen,
taking a piece of brown loaf-bread from the oven,
he asks the Master for the work day’s instruction.

Outside his house the storm continues brewing,
as clouds become heavily laden with outburst pending;
yet, the old Master rises and walks to the smithy,
the two journeymen having readied the forge’s body.

Flashing lightening pierces through the gloomy weather,
followed by mighty roars of reverberating thunder;
colorless rain begins to downpour over the shed,
humidity bring beads of sweat on each man’s head.

“I want more charcoal!” The Master yelled at the duo,
followed by the vigorous pumping of the bellow.
at the tuyere the inferno leaps like a wildfire,
20 pounds of wrought iron hot on the fire.

The conflagration soon becomes a white-hot blazer,
the entire smithy intense as a glowing red ember.
quickly the heat begins to soak into the iron mass,
turning the metal to a new bright-yellow morass.

Long tongs then grasp the red sizzling bundle,
lifting it from the hot forge and onto the anvil.
at the ready the three men raise their sledges high,
in cascading strikes hit the molted mass with a cry.

Bam, bam, bam, bam to the beat of the Master’s canter.
Each arm aching from the heavy weight of the hammer.
Ferrous material shaped and formed by pounding;
when the Master is satisfied the iron ceases glowing.

The room quickly returns to shades of grays,
rain subsides, the lightening thus fades.
clouds depart leaving a sky so blue and airy,
as heavens’ colors again fall into the smithy.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing stage: 


Any thoughts?

author comment

I liked this poem. I started to trip on the meter, and overlooked it quite early in the piece. I get the feeling you were not sticking to any in particular.

The poem really begun, for me, that is, in the fifth stanza. It brought to mind a scene in "Spirited Away" where the spider-like man is seen asking for more coals.

The "iron" really stood out in that verse, up until the cooling. You were able to create tension, raise it and bring it to an end that loosely tied up the earlier part of the piece to the rest of it. Even then, I wasn't entirely satisfied. I felt the first four stanzas connected too loosely with the rest of the poem. It's fine if that was the intention.

I liked the surreal nature of the theme of this poem.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

Thank you Eliot for your comments. The first four verses were to set up the story. Firstly a storm was brewing both in nature and the men at the beginning. Then the confluence of a fast moving storm with the work at the forge ended in the climax of the two---then it resolved into the peace of creation. Sorry that it didn't come out as I expected. Drachm

author comment

I liked this, you create the scene very well. some of your sentence structure is a bit clunky, eg
a journeyman gruffly enters (to) the kitchen, 'to' is not correct english
also you change meters so that the reader can't find a consistent rhythm. read it out aloud and you'll see where this occurs.
I like your half rhymes and the subject matter is unusual, you create a dramatic atmosphere.

Thank you for your insight into some of my problems with this poem. I don't know if I can correct the inconsistent rhythm at this stage but I do see the problem. Again, much appreciate your critiques. Arsaces

author comment
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