"foundries" poems
*If we leave the litter behind,
and run until our legs become a burden and our heads start to swell and come loose like a white-cloth-Arabian-silk turban,
we can make it home before 5.*
Past the market that only makes sense in the sun,
along the terraces slipping from their foundations,
skip on-top of walls before falling back into our run
behind the street of seared spice smells, conjured up by different nations.
We’ve left the litter behind.
We’d run further than these cities and their boundaries,
take transport to the tops of heavenly high hills,
cause havoc amongst the machinery of the foundries
and make it home for five if we run through those mills.
We’ve left the litter behind.
Holding hands we’ll remember the brush of the grass on our thighs,
farmer’s fields and the dark brown cut-throughs we took,
our pockets full of receipts and chewing gum supplies
and the look of your pale blue eyes amongst your fresh air haircut.
I hope the litter don’t mind.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
You wrote a letter, it had to be,
Your merest whim and dearest thought.
I found it clever, you have to see, going
Out on a limb where the true battle’s fought.
We sorely wished and ached to know,
You shared a life, I shared one, too.
The seeds we sow and hope to grow,
‘Till vines cross the boundaries of me,
(And you…)
Forging a future in distant foundries,
Life and love make a space for you.
Our lives, as such, the liminal boundaries,
Our love, of course, the glue.
Jan 1, 2023
Jan 1, 2023 at 1:10 AM UTC
Come the morning rain
That cool refreshing flow
That fills all the land
With the blessings you bestow.
The hungry flowers open up
To grasp your eternal brew
The Daffodil, The Buttercup
Lay awaiting just for you.
Come those sparkling drops
That are filled with Natures care
Giving life to the thirsty crops
To all their equal share.
The Hare hops the soaking grass
On meadows of emerald green
The streets a mirror of reflecting Glass
All fresh and washed pure clean.
Beauty knows no boundaries
As true as eyes can see
Like the glory of Heaven's foundries
That empties to the sea.
Your the sacred Mead of the Dagda
Replenishing and invigorating through
For the Gods have come to share with us
Their own sacred brew.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 7:32 AM UTC
I can’t say we’re the same but I too have lost large parts of me to greener pastures
Your dark bricks turn to dust and paint the snow a red maroon
“The stories they’d tell”
Says everyone sad to see them crumble but not sad enough to do anything about it
“Someone should do something”
Someone, but not they
Milwaukee I too am a lot like you, if you only knew
How far I slid sickly over the Kinnickinnic oil slicks
Past fallen trees and draining pipes
Until being caught by a shopping cart
Left on the muddy banks by some poor poor impoverished soul
Who also didn’t really care enough to return it to the Pick & Save
From which it was taken
I’ve sure seen better days and I too have come a long way
Like I got on to Fond Du Lac Avenue and kept walking
Until I reached
Well...
Fond Du Lac
Like I ascended Kilbourn Park with a pick-axe
Defeated the yeti on top and shoved your blue flag
Through his heart, cracking it open like a Pabst or Schlitz can
and dropped a quarter in a homeless guy’s jar
And he told me I was just like you
I can too burn bright like the foundries in the valley
Or roar like railcars and rattle the south side
Or be courageous like the captain
Sailing to Muskegon
Over choppy freshwater treachery
I can shutter in peace like your factories when I fall asleep
And never wake back up
I can drive all my loved ones away
Just like you have
For the past five decades
I’m exactly like you
Because I too
Wait for a sunnier day
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
My love for you knows no boundaries
nor border guards with hastened shouts
for my heart forged in foundries
from sheer trust and carefree doubts
Let them levy heavy tax and toll
They'll ner' stop me getting through
for I must be where er' thy soul
for my heart longs to fly to you
Speak not of laws and reasoned thought
make no excuse that sounds like fact
for I must find what I've long sought
and on this need I need now act
So let them lower barriers down
and set up here their ****** blockade
I'll always find a way around
for my heart once sent cannot be staid
Prepare for war ye whom would stop me
be sure of this I'll win these fights
for over there lies liberty
and an end to all my lonely nights
So Take up arms increase thy number
imprison rights with red tape bars
but justice wakes from enforced slumber
as moon let's rain her falling stars
No boundaries no Borders hold me
when I can call upon your heart
to meet me where no one can stop thee
where we are one er' when apart.
So come to me and let me know this
that you would too break down their Walls
sign this treaty with thy sweet kiss
and hear my heart when er' it calls
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 6:58 AM UTC
Dudley, a black country town
the birthplace of the industrial revolution
where foundries thumped
and coal and limestone pumped
A ghost town ****** dry
by Merry Hill
a commercial giant
treading on local enterprise
killing it's trader's hope
until they couldn't cope
John Dudley from his grave turned
as his castle was raised to the ground
by parliamentarians in a coup
a ruin, now turned into a zoo!
A suffering town screaming for survival
not taking a nap for a place on the map
The home of Aynuk and Ayli
mythical characters who *****
in famed colloquial dialect kitsch
The museum packed with bold
black country tales
from glass blowing bubble
to blacksmith's trouble
The ayle, the doorstep sarni's
cow pies and canal barges
Salt of the earth men
who often pen
poems from their working class den
A concrete town
grey, dank into practicality sank
but if you get the chance to meet
any of the inhabitants
you'll be in for a treat
as the warmth in their hearts
will melt any thoughts of revolution
and cleanse your soul
of all pollution.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
So this is a life,
Something so fragile,
So dreadful,
So frightful,
But yet so beautiful,
Something utterly questionable,
Something with no boundaries,
Nothing stopping you from doing anything,
Built up from your starting foundries,
Give that grand smile away.
Show it off to the worlds.
Todays the day you live life,
Today you stop being such a child,
So smile and have fun,
For todays a great day,
Something to always remember,
Just what you had always portrayed.
-Helpful Anon
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 11:38 AM UTC
Upon returning from Deutsch class,
Where we spoke of Sturm und Drang,
I reminisce about Schiller’s scull in glass
and think it rather wrong.
Maybe it’s just komisch
your best friend stealing your noodle
somehow it makes sense, I wish
a really great poem he did doodle
Schiller and Goethe, the poets
and quite a pair were they!
Even after death we know it,
“Schiller’s” head was on display!
The inspiration knew no bound’ries,
words flowed without a hitch,
like blacksmiths in metal foundries
he truly found his niche
Know nature, life, and death alike
looking in his hollowed out eyes
you never know! Inspiration may strike
n'ere prompt, like lightening, o’re the skies.
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 5:26 PM UTC
When tides turn
the rolling flood fills
seems as if there to spill
upon the hallowed grounds
the flow of all that within a moments prayer
Rushes out there to compare
the tragedy of a moment
the internal drive lost in torment
That crushes forth those boundaries
where bears the tears of life's foundries
and pours out its delicate essence of form
In the simple bud of a tear.
That hearts and minds together pressed
there before ourselves - Undressed
The scars of the world that holds us down
suffocates us to drown
In the hollows of our being - seeing
The last fine ray of love outstretched
unable to grasp - We gasp
for the loss that is the woe of the soul
the love that would not come nor go
Just hovers in-between our beings
lost forever to our hearts dealings
that ravishes our sleep to no-more
where brands the pain, annoy, it's sore
upon the cold and lonely floor
Where we weep our bitter dreams.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 8:36 PM UTC
There once came a tale that didn’t want to be told.
It shuddered in the light of the voices decrepit and old,
That tried to conjure it at the peripheries of its boundaries.
But it fought back lingering in its formation in the foundries.
It would not be cast so easily like metal,
It would not be set so willingly in stone,
It would float on the tip of the tongue a fragranced petal,
It would bounce on the edge of the mind an ineffable tone.
Never drifting too close to anyone’s ear,
It remained in the distance away from the sages and scribes,
Always aware of its greatest fear,
To be misinterpreted by the way a human describes.
For who in all of creation has the ability to tell a story such as this?
With all the glory and irreverence so subtly intertwined,
The colour so luminous, and texture beating with bliss,
With no earthly writer could this yarn be aligned.
The muses who birthed this defiant prose did weep,
When they saw their child miss its chance for eternity again and again,
They beseeched their progeny to take the leap,
But over and over it would say no and cause them such pain.
And in the absence of this story the world fell in disarray,
Chaos ran wild and fear grew rife,
Without the stories guidance, the part it was supposed to play,
Soon it came to the end of its life.
For the humans had lost their ability to imagine such a story,
And it was lost in obscurity, unconceived glory.
It was then it saw the errors of its foolish way,
It tried to enter their thoughts but could never stay.
It was now far too late,
It had created its fate.
And everything turned grim, in a darksome pit
When it realised no one would remember it.
And the moral of the story is this,
Take this token a gentle kiss.
Play your part and play it bold,
Let your story be one that’s told.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
to say I am lost would be to imply that, at one point, I was present.
My presence was ignored from the time I crawled the floors,
feelings inside developed into sores
boring onto my soul scars.
My father, my guide, idolised in mind.
They say love is blind but
when eyes open and you find monsters, sponsors of crime
doing time for an easy dime,
can you carry that love on
or does that one idol burn?
I am lost or
rather never found, no guide by my side,
just going with the tide and building walls, to keep these feelings back,
that torment my mind.
The foundries of feeling’s forges have gone cold, Shut away and barricaded
by un-shaken walls.
So I wander, in search of myself,
I wonder
if I’ll be found or
if I’m bound for a battery of life:
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
Among the cool dew of black finitude,
Of deaths perpetual Being,
Stands Time beyond the cycle of life
Amidst the womb of mind.
Time, in life ever lived,
Flowed foundries of punctured flesh.
Atop thine headless stump sprung blood of bygone days.
Tis crimson life of Times design.
Thick, its breast, beyond the chisel of man
Of bronze it emits, by heaven’s design.
Below its supple ***** slick,
Its slender core, chiseled through watered sands
Of oceans shore.
Of its bow, betwixt thine thighs of withered age, its furry tongue
Of one, a youth day.
Below, it swings, a shriveled worm
Shooting blood, that once was *****
Withered, its **** in rot,
By impulsive defecation.
Down its dry shank of ruptured lobes,
Green slime it spurts through oozing sores.
Of Time in hand, now slipping away,
Beyond the flesh of warmth,
Now ****** and cold.
Brittle its skull below thy legs.
Lying alone, among the land,
Where worms now feast along the dirt.
Of anatomies time
Tis now to cease.
Where once a joy,
In perfection it was.
In reflection below, the crippling of man.
Now under thine feet it,
In agony it died.
The crown of man, now rot by life.
So, is the anatomy of Time.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC
How awesome it was, for She held my heart!
From the minute we met I couldn't hold back, I had no boundaries!
Oh she held my heart !
With sweet passion filled ********** so Hot, we could fire up a thousand foundries!
Oh she held my heart oh yeah!
She has Beauty she has! And wows all in her day!
With a ravenous smile, I just can't resist!
Oh she held my heart oh yeah!oh yeah she did!
I sit here pondering with all that's passed why does this feeling persist ?
Trouble I see it so clearly at times, with greatest of fears I have to admit!
She held my heart and how awesome we were!
Even with sheer stubbornness and greatest of will!
Thing is she held my heart and SO does still !
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
b ronze a ge
gone alchemic .
plasma fiat .
foundries of blue-white light .
Jan 11, 2024
Jan 11, 2024 at 10:15 PM UTC