You are the sun in my sky
The breath in my lungs
The vision in my eyes
You are my driving force
What is God but a creator
Dug out of a dark hole in the earth
I was forged in the fire of your smelter
In your refinery my impurities were taken
In your mold I have taken form
You tempered me, making me hard where I was soft
You hammered my iron shell
Sharpening my edges
You have smoothed my rough spots
You have given me meaning
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: March 7th, 2022 13:42
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Rocky Lagou
Online)
Comments3
Wow! This recalled a Sylvia Plath poem to mind, "The Stones." It's very similar in execution in which the speaker is describing themselves as being this "object" and being handled by different people with their tools. This is an excerpt from the poem:
"The jewelmaster drives his chisel to pry
Open one stone eye...
Heating the pincers, hoisting the delicate hammers.
A current agitates the wires
Volt upon volt."
I really enjoyed this poem and you did great! I love this sense of assurance in this person the speaker is describing, going as far as "given [the speaker a] meaning. 👏✨
Thank you so much for your review and comments. I was unaware of the poem " The Stones" but there are no original thoughts in this world. I truly appreciate your input.
I love the beautiful utilization of words in your poem. The way they shape, mold the essence of the piece. Loved the words, loved the poem.
Thank you so much for taking the time to review and comment on this poem. Your comments are deeply appreciated.
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