For We Write Poems poetry prompt: We wordle #4
Missive (To Myself) Rendered On The Run
Do not ridicule.
Don’t need your obviously oily rules
paid out in prettified platitudes
from a tarragon-tainted tongue
that only translates its deepest dark
desire to hurt, to harshly humiliate.
Must wonder if you were birthed
this brazen-boned lunatic, living
life like a scourge of locusts
devouring all, even smallest, greenings
which grow between earth, water, and sky.
Unwilling to make single sacrifice toward
changing. Always asking sharp pointed questions
yet never waiting for an answer. Perhaps caught
up in fear that your voice might be lost
in passing crowd of other fools that surround you,
urged on by purging need for even more
I am just an old woman with words
my only weapons. But, for over thirty years,
have been honing them in orange flames
of self-perpetuating fire.
Be warned: I am watching you.
Elizabeth Crawford 1/27/14
Notes: This started out as a simple experiment to see if I could use all of the words in a cohesive and coherent poem. I have been disturbed for several days for many reasons. So, when the words started to take this rather scathing path, I told myself (what I used to tell my students), “Anger is an energy flow…meant to fuel action. It is your choice whether that action is constructive or destructive.” I figure it is better to construct, create a poem, than to blast someone’s head off and possibly do permanent damage. As I put the last period to the poem, I heard a song in my head. Again, brought to me by Joan (I may start calling her My Musical Prophet). Until she came into my life, I had never really heard, or listened to REM. Listened to it, and that’s when I started laughing because I realized this poem was me putting myself on notice. The song may be found here:
The image is a photograph of a cityscape at sunset that I manipulated because I liked the colors. I titled it Prairie Fire.