Quickwords Vol. 22 – Little Golems


Welcome to Volume 22 of Quickwords, my very own poetry series! The theme today is ‘Little Golems’.

A pair of small, humanoid clay sculptures against a blurry leafy background. One figure is small and held by the other.

| Air in |

Clay countenance before kindling flame
Made hollow, even in the slightest
It gazes at the fire it knows will end its journey
Molded in earnest effort to some semblance of humanity
Built to be a part of that world
Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes in creation
They leave holes in the heart
Air in me, Aaron, me
We lit the stove of life
But oh how heat makes this little golem explode

| Automaton |

It’s an artisan’s job to shine the automata
Yet I hold autonomy to a degree of this thermometer in my heart
How am I to polish myself with a cloth that to me seems a curtain to the future?
I scan technique, analysis paralysis
Afraid my muscles will memorize the wrong path, I stay still
Make like marionette
But the artisan forgets about the little robots who don’t realize themselves

| Little Golems of the Forest |

Little golems march this forest
If you wish to chop a tree, you best have an acorn
To fill the place they’d happily make your grave

Little golems, to whom the fae bid hullo
They hear words in the beasts’ growls
And make sense of what the leaves whisper in the wind
If you wish to walk these woods
You best keep open three eyes, three ears, three fears
Because everyone’s got a few, but they only ask for three

Little golems only our shamans have seen
They’ll eat your truth and spit your lies with ichor tipped tongues
What you promise the grass you tread
Tells them what they need to know

Little golems who start wildfires
And dance to sooth the seeds they bury in the ashes
They burn only what has reached its time
One never knows till the forest speaks

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