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Eldaraenth The Bardic Circle   
back to  Poetry
The Forge
Written and Submitted by M. Cornelis Van Der Wheele IV

Rusting tin shack glued together with anceint nails.
Warmed by a preadamite black stove, raging flame
kicking at the iron door. Sparks erupt from soot
encrusted chimney, barely breaking through roof.
Hay crammed into gnarled holes, barring gusts
of dry-ice winds from a Kansas February.
Scars are burned into fractured wood beams.
Shattered Black and Decker monsters
leer from discarded piles on the oak bench.

Clanging hammers beat frozen metal
into pauldrons and breastplates.
Every non-flammable surface caked
with ash and cigarette butts. Lighters lay
cannibalized for spare parts. Memories
of Captain Black vanilla pipe blend
and any piece of leather upholstery cut
and gnawed into grizzled straps
for stolen stop signs painted blue.

Homework is discarded for cheap Millers
and an evening trek beneath the winter moon.