sword

Poem #258 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


it was never his intention
to resist
but …

sometimes …

a blow
will only achieve
indentation

sometimes …

desire alone
will not yield itself
into a predetermined shape

the hammer
is only
a blunt-form instrument

a rod of metal
is merely an aspect
of potential

the smith
is artist now
of positivity and force
in equal measure

the arm …

the descending strike
of one-on-one …

is a rhythm
of hard love
for this creation

fire in the forge
a passion

the plunge
into cold water

again …

boiled to steam

his
is the temper
of the steel

he
is the sword


© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #259: uncertain (writing)

4 thoughts on “sword

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