He signed his name on the wall
while he waited for his world to fall.
It didn’t happen as he’d planned;
chaos lent him a bedevilled hand;
turned his want into a need;
changed his envy into greed.
It spoke of beauty inside the flower,
of its blossom and its power.
He sowed the seed with steady hands,
ignoring all outside demands.
In time it grew wirey and strong;
all else he knew was now long gone
until he felt it ready to bloom,
so he strapped it on and faced his doom,
pressed the button and his world went…
BOOM
Comments
Silver Spun Sand | January 29, 2010 - 10:41
The imagery works excellently, here, Dynamaso - masking the dark finale. Powerful.
Tina
MistakenMagic | January 29, 2010 - 17:18
'until he felt it ready to bloom,
so he strapped it on and faced his doom,'
- love these lines, Dynamaso! Haunting poem.
Magic xxx
Dynamaso | January 30, 2010 - 00:19
Thank you both for your lovely comments. This is an old one and, I thought, a bit of an experiment. Pleased you both like it, though.
Nathan Bednarek | January 31, 2010 - 17:26
Wonderful ;-)
Dynamaso | January 31, 2010 - 21:14
Thanks Nathan.