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,
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.
Leave your thoughts below on this piece, and follow us on here and our social media for more new poetry and news of what is going on in our world.