Weeping Poetry – Sound Of Iron – Poem on Imagination

Weeping Poetry – Poem on Imagination

Weeping Poetry

Hit me,
Beat me again and again,
Cut me,
Set me with your brain.
I am iron,
I have no metallic pain.

Use me,
Base me for your test,
Convert me,
Adjust me at your best.
I am ferrous,
I have no rest.

Burn me,
Turn me through the mill,
Buy me,
Sell me as your will.
I am ferric,
I take no meal.

Hit me,
Beat me so beautifully,
Don’t hit to anyone cowardly.
Cut me,
Set me so lovely,
Don’t shoot to anyone cruelty.
Convert me,
Adjust me so rightly,
Don’t divert me to anywhere wrongly.
Buy me,
Sell me positively,
Don’t cost me negatively.

I am iron.
Use me like a peaceful pigeon,
I don’t play on Cyrene.

I am ferrous,
Don’t use me like ferocious,
I appear at you as glorious.

I am ferrum.
Behave with me like your
I present in mother’s ovum.
I am more useful than
diamond and aurum.

I am iron.
I am pig iron
but I am not pig.
I am dead.
I can’t talk,
but I am so strong.
I can make form steel.
I have flexible power.
I am magnetic.
I am so energetic.
I came to you as an authentic.

Though I am cast iron but
Don’t cast me into the
evils and devils,
I move into the hemoglobin’s.
Don’t me misused,
I don’t want to be misunderstood
Because I came from holy
earth and holy touched,
I am sacred,
I don’t want to be hatred.

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