Poetry. In FORGED daily experience is the density in which these poems take shape, in the heated atmosphere of the forge where peril is frequent. As elsewhere in her prose, she [Howe] creates her in poetry, a layered atmosphere of mystery and spiritual solution-- Barbara Guest. Did I believe or was it hope/ like a fir tree in a child's nursery/ candlelights on thistleballs/ at a village called Manningtree.