Hillard Sarver Poet Free verse

The Wordsmith's Anvil

The Wordsmith's Anvil

 It starts as a tiny ember
In my mind, heart and soul
A single word or simple thought
Synapses fire furiously
Fanning it like a blacksmith's bellows

Suddenly it is a roaring fire
Brain now engulfed in the blaze
I have to quench quickly
Lest it consume me
I plunge the raw metal into the inferno

My pen hammers the blank
The steel anvil rings out as
I strike the glowing red words
Forming lines with each stroke
Turning the twisting chaotic lines
Into meaningful stanzas
Intensely hammering the poetic flow
The metal cools as the fire reduces

Ink dries as the fire dies
Cooling breezes slow the synapses
With calming calculations
Now only the polishing remains

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Kim Merryman August 4, 2016 at 8:58 PM Hilliard, I love how you creatively described the writing process. Great analogy. Blessings! Hillard Sarver August 4, 2016 at 9:07 PM Thank you for reading and reviewing this writing. It was something that came to me while I was driving and I could not get back fast enough to write it on my computer.

Christine Lehman August 3, 2016 at 7:11 PM And sometimes the polishing is the hardest part - but you make it look easy! Very well written and enjoyable poem! Hillard Sarver August 3, 2016 at 8:11 PM Thank you for reading and reviewing this writing. Oh, I agree with you sometimes; the polishing is the hardest part. However, often the stream of thought knows the style and the flow, and we just have to accept it, and that makes the polishing easier.