THE PULSE IN OUR SWEATS

~THE PULSE IN OUR SWEATS~ 

The forge brings forth it high pitch sound 

As the smith simultaneously strikes the burning rod. 

The carpenter's hammer couldn't stay mute 

As he strikes to drive the stubborn nail into the wood. 

What a harmonious melody I can hear 

In my heart's ear as they ran past me. 

The mason is free, he wipes his brow 

As a sign of freedom from hard labours of the day. 

He is gay; you could tell it from his bright sunken eyes 

As he ran to the bay bare-footed. 

The bellow takes a rest as a sweet voice calls from behind the forge house 

To cue adjournment of the day’s case. 

With deem glows, the fire mourns. 

The stubborn nail has learned his lessons 

He now rests peacefully in the bosom of his host. 

The carpenter rest his tools, wipes his brow as dusk become domineering, 

He kneels by his invention and mutters; 

Grant us rest oh, for we are weary 

These are our heartbeats, feel the pulse in our sweats. 

---Fampah Coyish--- 

© By Fampah Coyish-Awoken By Poems 2013