axeman: the dwindling

the pile
that was a mountain
that vast expanse
of never-ending
has been tamed

devoured
slice by slice
to the systematic
beating
of the splitter

transformed
from the raw
to the dressed

and he too
has been changed

transformed

his skills honed

an ability to smite
developed
into the art
of division

round after round
made into cordwood
stacked in the neat lines
that speak
organisation

idly
he wonders

what is after this

strikes another blow

what will I do
when this wood is done

another day

questions
are for another day

this day
there are still
rounds
and oddments left
that must be
transformed


© Frank Prem, 2017

October 2017 Poem #01: street sounds

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2 thoughts on “axeman: the dwindling

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