Monday, November 19th,2012,10: 05 AM.
finished May 19,2013
I am the wordsmith, poet and forger of hymns
My pencil is my hammer, and words my steel and iron
And with this I create my art as I whim
I am an artist, with pencils, paper is What I ply
No need of colours, mixes and wheels
no need of paint have I.
One day, at tongs and hammer I wrote
Until a rather silly fellow came and quote
“Why sir, what a fool you must be! ”
“ To waste such time on something so carefree! ”
And upon hearing this I looked up and laughed
“ And what other sort of thing should I craft? ”
Weapons and murder with edges that end lives
or perhaps tool to harvest onions, lettuce, potatoes and chives?
O maybe a forger of steel armoured plates
or hinges to guard a kings iron gates
No! I am the wordsmith, and pen is my sword
And with it my grasp I am truly a lord
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Comments about this poem (Wordsmith by Ryan Brodesser )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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