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Drift
My rage is a dandelion seed head
scattering to the wind;
I can't catch every piece.
Though, sometimes, one may float
into my palm, and I examine it to find
that the spiky, soft hairs
of the fury drifter
make no sense to me.
© Nathan A. Brock 2021
scattering to the wind;
I can't catch every piece.
Though, sometimes, one may float
into my palm, and I examine it to find
that the spiky, soft hairs
of the fury drifter
make no sense to me.
© Nathan A. Brock 2021
Published 24th Jul 2021
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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24th Jul 2021 5:17am
I like this poem.
Rage like the dandelion fluff...
Beautiful, unexpected central image...
And the epiphany at the end, that the fragments of wrath and rage make little sense, regarded in tranquility.
Relatable, with good use of imagery.
Again, enjoyed!
Rage like the dandelion fluff...
Beautiful, unexpected central image...
And the epiphany at the end, that the fragments of wrath and rage make little sense, regarded in tranquility.
Relatable, with good use of imagery.
Again, enjoyed!
