Daffodils

Someone invented the hammer
As a useful tool

Someone else used it
To bash people’s heads in

Someone invented language
And the same thing happened


Hatred, injustice, and ignorance –
Hey, we hit the trifecta!


I saw what she had written
In a type of dizzy rush:
She used her words to kiss me with —
All I could do
Was blush


The castles that we build may stand
And say what we have stood for —
But mockingbirds will always mock:
It’s all they’re really
Good for


The beautiful haters are everywhere,
Enticing us to join their cause,
Enthralling us with stirring words
To tear down barriers and laws

And then we go back to our shacks,
While they return to mansions fine —
The beautiful haters are calling you
To come
And get in line


It’s hard to know
The true false from the true:
It’s hard to be
When all you do
Is do


“I’d like to sell my soul,” she said,
But only found one taker:
The man who came to make her bed
And throw the circuit breaker

“I’d want to show my wild side.”
He said he didn’t mind —
But then was, frankly, mystified,
And soon was disinclined

To ever make that bed again,
Or throw that circuit breaker –
She tried to sell her soul, alas:
She lost her only
Taker


She grew up in a castle of books,
In world made out of mind and tome;
And she grew in the wonder of all she read
‘Til only in tales did she feel at home

By a thousand lakes, ‘neath a thousand clouds,
With stories and fables still, she fills —
In a world full of magic and long-kept faith
By a carpet of daffodils


 

(“Daffodils” – 2-8-2017)

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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