Tag Archives: fist

Fist (revised)

I watch its angry arc
through treacle time
its fury almost graceful,
with a hint of haste

 
this clenched missive
each knuckle scripted
its disgust
aimed at my nose

 
I do not flinch
though I cry ‘I’m sorry’
is it this
or the force of my gaze?

 
that arrests your fist
no imprint left
your message
written on me still
_______________________________

I have revised this somewhat. After spirited discussion on Facebook I have elected to retain ‘treacle’, albeit at the risk of my readers’ minds drifting to thoughts of gingerbread. I have extended the ‘missive’ metaphor in the second stanza and referred back to it in the fourth. I hope it’s a stronger poem for these changes. Thanks to all my poetic friends for their input.

Fist

I watch its angry arc
through treacle time
its fury almost graceful,
with a hint of haste

 
this clenched missive
each knuckle sketched
its disgusted patina
aimed at my nose

 
I do not flinch
though I cry ‘I’m sorry’
is it this?
or the force of my gaze?

 
your arrested fist
brushes rather than crushes
and I cry
‘I’m sorry’

______________________________
Today there was a poetry competition at the Dan O’Connell. The challenge was to use the line ‘graceful, with a hint of haste’. The above was my entry. It probably needs some more work. It does, however, truthfully describe one moment of my life. Congratulations to Timothy Train, Eric Beach and Mary Stone for your winning efforts.