unseen invisible and eccentric

I change my colors

blotting out the blue

turning temper purple

refraining from the heat of red

I am never absent

but you never know I'm here

my eyes are steel yours are the sea

adjust my skin to match

to show them the magic

the rainbow in your smile

Temper seethed through the Blacksmiths’ teeth

Gritted on edge, growling, hammer hands fell

Absent-minded, changing focus, forms and flow

water caught the light, flaunting white hot glow.

He refrained to vent, feelings that were pent,

But bent shards of metals like wind might petals

Blotting his hand across, a beaded sweat gloss

Blade emerged from steel, for a matching shield.

That working and working for hour, after hour;

His temper forged forms of protection, and power.

By Paul David B

The hammer drops heavily on the glowing steel, illuminating the top of the anvil in the dim, dark of the shop. The striking pattern sings into the village, a muted ting, ting, whack. With every change of the rod, a different voice is heard. Some metals of poor temper sing quite flat and a few brilliant rods shine more beautiful than any ever struck. As he works one, many rest in the fire, waiting for their refrain to come. Every rod is like the pen scratching the paper, putting a plot on a line, writing the song as they go. In the dying light of the ending day, each stroke continues to ring out, without change in tempo or speed.

I try to refrain from my desire

Pent up

Absent minded Lust

Need

Driving me crazy

Consumes me

Until I break

Give in

Your taste

lingering on my tongue

blot sweat

Dripping

Change scatters across the floor

As clothes are thrown

And torn

Frenzied passion

Bites

Tracing lines and curves

With your hungry kiss

Increasing temper

Of your steel

Take me

Here

On the floor

Because we both know

We

Aren't making it

To the bedroom

Blot those tears from your eyes

Drops of salt water

Forming constellations on your lashes

Wipe your eyes and stand tall

Let your temper get the best of you

Don't be afraid to speak now

Cares and worry are absent from mind

Time to change the tides of war

Refrain from mercy

You are made of steel now

You are invincible

You are infinite

And you are not to be trifled with

But you do nothing

Their words are like knives

And your steel is cracking

You're falling

Breaking

Crumbling

You know it shouldn't hurt

But it does

You trusted them

You thought they were good

You thought you were strong enough

That their insults

Would roll off you

Like rain on a slick window

But you are weak

Failing

You are an idiot for trusting

And you are

Nothing

"We must refrain from one another, my love." Salty water fell from his eyes, trickling down his cheeks.

Lette sighed, her delicate fingers tracing little patterns on his soft skin. "You're always absent, please stay."

Blots of paint covered her arms, her shirt was fresh changing it before she came to his side.

"I need to change, I am not a man of steel. I want to protect you, and the kids."

She cried, placing herself on his lap, nuzzling into his neck.

"I know you have a temper, please stay."

With a will of steel it is often hard to cover the wounds of writing.

You know, those stark and horrifying marks plastered painfully on the picture perfect piece of paper you worked so tirelessly on.

Those changes, blots of ink hiding the words which should not be there, which cannot be there.

You refrain from using white out to avoid seeming absent minded, blinded by the beauty of the image of the word and not the meaning, as if the way the word looked were more important than the way it fit in the work, or the way it sounded.

Your temper rises when you finally put your pen down only to realize too late that there is still more writing to be done. The anger quickly subsides to leave a sort of bliss. One, only we can understand.

I see you there, old friend,

Your eyes steel

Your lips a blot from the temper

You refrain to change.

I see you old friend.

Am I absent from your thoughts?

Do you see me?

Am I yet alone,

Here beside you as you

Look off into the distance

Instead of me?

Are you my friend,

Or, as I fear,

My old friend?

When he was younger, he had a steel heart. He couldn't refrain from being rebellious and daring. He thought that this was the way to live.

Nothing was going to change, until one day he met Luther.

When he met Luther, whose name was close to Lucifer, he became a blot of cold air.

He fell in love with Luther.

And yes, he was gay.

He was no longer bold and devious because he was ashamed of hisself. He lived in a dark space and it made him lose his temper. Not losing it as in, having no control and uncontrollable anger, but losing it, not having it any more.

He became absent from hisself.

This is how he learnt to be soft.