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* * *
Unscathed, you kept
your new electronics.
The witch in the belly
rose to the breast.
Under the hammer, a firecracker,
urgent You.
Poems on the topic: hammer
Poems on the topic “hammer” on Poets.by.
Cheltenham Elegy #524
When he drives around Elkins Park in
the dead of night, he thinks, this is how
I like the human race— asleep. When three roads
fork at Myers, he goes down Mill Road.
By the time the car climbs Harrison Ave,
he has the thought that the sleeping human
race is the holy one. He pushes past the old
derelict high school on High School Rd, wonders
if its still haunted. It flashes on him: the day
he broke in, smack in the middle of the Nineties,
with buddies now long dead. He found a hammer,
stole it, never used it— it sat in his closet
until after graduation. He was smashed then, too.
The Old Nail-Shop
I dreamt of wings, — and waked to hear
Through the low-sloping ceiling clear
The nesting starlings flutter and scratch
Among the rafters of the thatch,
Not twenty inches from my head;
And lay, half-dreaming in my bed,
Watching the far elms — bolt-upright
Black towers of silence in a night
Of stars, between the window-sill
And the low-hung eaves, square-framed, until
I drowsed, and must have slept a wink . . .
And wakened to a ceaseless clink
Of hammers ringing on the air ...
And, somehow, only half-aware,
I'd risen and crept down the stair,
Bewildered by strange smoky gloom,
The Steel Workers
I watched the workers in steel,
The Pit-like glow of the furnace,
The rivers of molten metal,
The tremulous rumble of cranes,
The throb of the Thor-like hammers
On sullen and resonant anvils!
I saw the half-clad workers
Twisting earth's iron to their use,
Shaping the steel to their thoughts;
And, in some way, out of the fury
And the fires of mortal passion,
It seemed to me,
In some way, out of the torture
And tumult of inchoate Time,
The hammer of sin is shaping
The soul of man!
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