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| "The Eruption of Vesuvius" by Joseph Turner (1775-1851) |
Wrath
Sometimes it rises like lava
Molten fury glowing scarlet
Surging down through the woods.
Sometimes it infiltrates like dry rot
Creeping mutely under the floorboards
Of our compulsion to remain
Calm and sane.
Sometimes you look back
Thinking, “Was that really me?”
As red transmutes to charcoal grey.
Oft-times it seems like the real life
To fight and to feel come what may.
Yes, let others live like zombies
To plod a rose-strewn way
- For we shall wait at the seashore
Where whitecaps harass the wind
- Confessing our anger together,
Proud to admit we have sinned.
Sometimes it rises like lava
Molten fury glowing scarlet
Surging down through the woods.
Sometimes it infiltrates like dry rot
Creeping mutely under the floorboards
Of our compulsion to remain
Calm and sane.
Sometimes you look back
Thinking, “Was that really me?”
As red transmutes to charcoal grey.
Oft-times it seems like the real life
To fight and to feel come what may.
Yes, let others live like zombies
To plod a rose-strewn way
- For we shall wait at the seashore
Where whitecaps harass the wind
- Confessing our anger together,
Proud to admit we have sinned.
Beautiful, exceedingly beautiful, Mr. Pudding. "To fight and to feel come what may." Powerful! The thoughts and feelings that "creeping mutely under the floorboards of our compulsion to remain calm and sane" evoke are palatable for me. Well done!
ReplyDeleteMOUNTAIN THYME When I stopped to think about it, it seemed to me that "wrath" can be a very positive and desirable human trait. You wouldn't want to live your life consumed by wrath but stuff happens and sometimes anger is the most natural reaction...By the way, I appreciate your support. Not everyone who visits this blog is receptive to poetry.
ReplyDeleteI too consider this one of your finest to date YP.
ReplyDeleteMany's the time in a past life that I searched for the anger in me that would result in empowerment.
It can also of course be incredibly destructive when acted upon without thought.
Are you kidding, Mr. Pudding? There is a reason one can write poetry.... good poetry. And a reason that I cannot! One must look deeply into ones soul and psyche in order to have the honestly that can produce a verse. I cannot. It is too difficult and too raw for me. But I wish that I could. What demons would be set free if I could reach that deep. What beautiful dreams and longings could be released......if I only dared!!
ReplyDelete