Waxing Poetic: The Forge-Master

The moon phase has waned to new. Tomorrow marks the New Moon and the Perigean Spring Tide, but my creativity has been waxing strong lately. Here is a dream-inspired poem of mine, which is copyrighted. You have no permissions to it other than reading it.

😎

Shaper of iron…rugged and strong

Wild, long hair and beard blow and flow in the wind

Cresting the hill, he approaches bare-chested

The forge is cold…long untouched…neglected, she slumbers

He sets powerful hands to the bellows – deftly manipulates

Coals glow under his experienced touch…heat rises

He reaches down, caressing the knob on the vent – the flames explode

He smiles, thrusting thick, raw pig-iron into the fire

Hands deftly pump the bellows – steadily…rhythmically

Iron glows red…then white-hot

Sweat streams down muscular thighs

Loincloth falls away, unnoticed in his exertions

Iron is doused with cool, soothing fluid…steam rises in a sigh

Mold me, forge-master…I am your smoldering ember

Protected: Inner Child At Play…Birthday Week!!!

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