, , , ,

Hopelessly content with their “good fortune”
The illustrious platinum rope.

A short drop.

A sharp stop.

They will remain but ore.
The ore of something that makes a man.
Perched, grouped and dull, Matt in colour.
Upon high-life hill.

Adversity is the heat and hammer,
Adversity is the smith.

Diligence and tenacity,
Glowing.       From embers,
To anvil.
Under the sweaty brow, and the blunt tempered end.

I was dragged across a grindstone.

And received a brilliant edge in life.

© Chris Flame 2013


Today’s featured poem comes from Chris Flame. A strong, defiant piece on the individual discovering their own identity and strength in the face of the adversity and folly of society and those that inhabit it, Chris weaves a masterful tale here. A use of blunt, confrontational language and phrasing which burns like a white-hot flame throughout, this is a poem that demands attention be paid to it, and leaves the reader with a sense of their own identity and strength. A call to arms, if you will, for the disaffected.

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