The Smithy – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Sputter – RDP Monday

 

montreal-blacksmith.jpg

Photo: thestar.com

The Smithy

The fizz and sputter of the raked coals,
brazier aglow
and the glisten of sweat as he
worked the bellows
and rained down successive blows,
hammering like thunder
such new creations
as metal yielded like
a sacrifice on the anvil
as if forged in the very heat
of the beginning of time,
the warmth of the fire
filling the air with ash
and all the smells of
grit and iron,
this place of force and might
is yet an intricate design
of all that could be.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

37 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, life, poem

37 responses to “The Smithy – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

  1. One of my loves blackdmiths

    Liked by 2 people

  2. A forceful, fiery poem! 🙂
    (You would think that he would at least be wearing safety glasses.)

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I love the last three lines … much like life.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Gosh I love it. I wanna practive to write more poetry like this.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Very nicely described, Paul!
    One should learn this old craft again. Best also gunmaking too.;.) Best wishes,Michael

    Liked by 1 person

  6. the smithy forging life ,,, nice one!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. This poem brings in all of the senses (except the smell of the sweaty blacksmith). Very emotive poem on a profession we don’t think about so much anymore. Lovely job.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Amazing piece and love your imagery and your reflections on a strenuous craft that produces such interesting designs.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Amy

    They are creative and work under such conditions…

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I can almost hear the blacksmith with his pounding. Nice one, Paul.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. lync56

    Your words always transport me to another place that you are conjuring

    >

    Liked by 1 person

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