The Village Blacksmith by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Village Blacksmith
1840

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate’er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter’s voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother’s voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his haul, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,–rejoicing,–sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Born: 27 February 1807, Maine, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 24 March 1882, Massachusetts, USA

Longfellow was a poet and educator whose works include ‘Paul Revere’s Ride’, ‘The Song of Hiawatha’, and ‘Evangeline’. He was the first American to translate the Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. He was also one of New England’s Fireside Poets. Born in Portland, Maine, at the time part of Massachusetts. His first major poetry collections were Voices of the Night is 1839 and Ballads and Other Poems in 1841.

Rime Royal Notes

The Rime Royal is a seven-line stanza, with each line consisting of ten syllables or iambic pentameter and a rhyme.

Rhyme Scheme: ababbcc

Example

Invisible Hand by Jez farmer

I sought the sanctuary of her light
Within silver beams that caress the earth
She brings lost souls comfort throughout the night
As witches dance and sing with full moon mirth
But I was seeking another rebirth
The unseen gods that I could never see
Until I opened my eyes and saw me

My lord and hunter, the bringer of light
The invisible hand that drew me here
As you opened my eyes that darksome night
Addressing my doubts and courting my fear
Until the path ahead was bright and clear
When you felt my need that hidden desire
To dance with you amid the Beltane fire

Transcendence

Transcendence
Form: Free Verse
Theme: Erotica

Where do your thoughts go
as you float into this moment
this beautiful little death
in that this moment
as your body holds your breath
does your mind choose where you go
as instincts become fundamental
between heavenly and natural
in this sinful act of pleasure
this beautiful moment of death
the enjoyment of all carnal treasure
yet I see the sweet agony
ravishing between anguish and desire
in the midst of bliss
culminating in the fury
found in the depths of the mind’s abyss
creating the weary senses
that feel so light yet heavy
without reasons or explanations
it’s a journey of desire
taking you there
guided only by the raw instinct
leading the mind away from the heat
of endless despair
a reality that isn’t real
as it feels like a flight into fantasy
and senses converge and merge
blending into a trembling delight
of needs yearning for wants
and rushing sensations close the eyes
racing to the intensity
as composure is lost to the ecstasy
collapsing inside self-imploding
in the letting go of self
as the spirit erodes back into the afterglow
where did your thoughts go to
when transcending into desire
and that beautiful little death

©JGFarmer2022

Who Rang the Bell 

Drinking tea while reading Ivor – perfect. Excellent poetry

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

I am a tiring old writer

like apunch-drunkfighter

who buckled and fell

before the round eleven bell

lying flat on the bloody canvas

wishing Iwereambidextrous

like the incredible Emily Dickison

(Oh, she must have been!)

and I still have more stories in my subconscious

ring the bell for round twelve

I am in the corner, blindly courageous

sitting here within my dizziness

waiting for the new world to stop being carnivorous

Ivor Steven (c) January 2022

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Out to Sea

A Garret Poet

Out to Sea
Form: Saraband Sonnet

Along the stream there gently floats
Autumntide's gift, a golden leaf
That trails the water like sailboats.
It slips away beyond all reach
On past grass laden river banks
Beside the kirk as folks give thanks
Onward! Onward to sunset's beach.
The fishing girl with eager eyes
Reflecting gold in disbelief
On it goes beneath moonlit skies.
The dancing shadows lift their boughs
As if to say a bon voyage
The faster waters beckon with rage
And echoes round the ocean's soughs

©JGFarmer2012

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