The ends of my arms are more like handles, less like hands;
unable to pull desires in, push other offered hands away.
Afraid of what other people will say,
I have evolved this sad display while
glass orifice seems to open, slipperier grows the sand.
What writing on what wall predicted this particular disaster?
My surname in the thick of it, and brothers
who practiced not the tricks of others
whose principles’ life quickly smothers
seem to slip away faster and faster.
Leapfrogging tyrants amid predictable heads and tails,
many of them have been so spoiled,
congressional aspirations foiled,
temptation around their necks is coiled;
deflect towards evil as democracy fails.
Just for me an intervention was selected but such unkindly input rankles,
my handles arouse in some an unreasonable alarm.
Despite my obvious charisma and peculiar charm,
persist rumors of people I had personally harmed,
accusation’s thinnest trousers have fallen down around their ankles.
Crimes against me not yet somehow resolved were seen as threats to them.
Acting on omens, reacting with their toys,
fail to realize this intricately grown up boy
stands no longer indefinitely in longevity’s employ;
my story will stain history before news of my demise ever gets to them.
Out on the ends of my arms are still more handles than hands,
unable to grasp with, easily pushed aside.
Still afraid, sometimes I cower and hide,
my scarcity of tricks not already tried,
hourglass orifice seems to open, somehow slipperier grows the sand.
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: August 27th, 2024 00:13
- Comment from author about the poem: A dream I had.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments3
Dreams usually tell us something, maybe you should look it up on Google, you may be surprised. A wonderful powerful poem rich in imagery end emotion. 🌹
A most interesting rhyme scheme Dan that pulls this poem along on waves. Nicely done
Strange dreams, where do they come from? Probably an unanswerable question, but that don't mean they can't drive us to good poetry. It seems the stranger the better. Maybe you're just trying to get a "handle" on something? Enjoyed your poem. - Phil A.
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