It takes 725,000 pounds per square inch
to transform carbon to diamond.
Pressure forces the atoms to crystallise
which sounds fragile in truth,
like spun sugar, beautiful, but soluble.
Yet they hitchhike magma flows,
erupt without warning
land where they may.
The sort of precious
men kill for.
Rough cut they are still priceless.
Polished,
they still remember being carbon.
Carol J Forrester 
I love the diamond remembering being diamond… makes me think of Syd Barret and the song Pink Floyd wrote to remember him… shine on you crazy diamond
How lovely. Yes, this poems seems to have reminded a few people of various poems, I seem to be accumulating as diamond playlist.
I will give your poem top marks for clarity, Carol. “The sort of precious men kill for.” is a wonderful line.
Thank you. Sometimes a little clarity is good in a poem.
You’re welcome and yes.
Hmmm. Interesting to think diamonds remember being carbon, when they “live” in such rarefied atmosphere! Interesting thought.
If only everyone said such things about the odd ideas bobbing around my brain.
That ending is a stunner. The change from carbon to diamond is incredible.
Thank you.
I always enjoyed the fantasy the Superman could squeeze a lump of coal into a diamond. Of course the cost of diamonds and their availability is carefully controlled by Hallmark and the diamond merchants.
Indeed, as most commodities are these days really. Control over markets is power.
I so love diamonds and I specially like your ending line.
Thank you Grace.
Love that last line.
Thank you. It took a few goes to find one I was happy with.
adore how you wrote the tedious journey to a pricey perfection and returned to humble beginnings in the end.
Thank you.
I far prefer diamonds in the ground to diamonds on a ring or bracelet. I love your diamond poem, Carol, especially the lines:
‘…they hitchhike magma flows,
erupt without warning
land where they may.
The sort of precious
men kill for’
and
‘Polished,
they still remember being carbon.’
The song that came to my mind was Joan Baez’s ‘Diamonds and Rust’.
That’s not a song I’m familiar with but I’m happy to hear you enjoyed the poem. It’s been a bit of trial writing poems since I published the book, it’s almost like I forgot how they work.
The sort of precious
men kill for.
– this is so true in a good and sad sense.
Violence masquerading and protection.
What was that Graham Parker song? “Passion Is No Ordinary Word,” and diamonds don’t get there chillin’ and swillin’. Poems are similarly challenged, don’t you think?
That is a fantastic lyric. I think you’re right too, poems have to have that core of fire in them to ignite the reader. Those are the ones that stick with people.
I love this poem. Reminds me of Herkimer diamonds, which I love precisely because of their impurities. I have a loose one with bits of carbon within, yet it is still so beautiful.
A little imperfection often adds to art. Perfection is so often striven for, but honestly it can make something feel fake and replicated. Impurities are part of life.
Yes, they are.
Shine bright like a diamond – we are all a unique cut. Now why am I singing Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
Haha, sing away.
an elegant poem, Carol, not a word wasted..JIM
Thank you very much.