Bump, buzz, bump again, all around the shed,
what a painful horror story, for your little head,
fly, land, fly once more, caught up in a trap,
why do you persist with such a dangerous bloody path?
There can be an escape, only if you choose,
puppet master’s shadow; is a place where you will lose,
to bathe in such instruction, fills a hollow pride,
where every single wholesome dream is told to be a lie.
Bump, buzz, bump again, all around the shed,
what a painful horror story, for your little head,
fly, land, fly once more, caught up in a trap,
why do you persist with such a dangerous bloody path?
Your body’s like a road map, imaginary whips,
champagne corks are popping, as your essence drips,
a wondrous writ sensation, I’m sure you will agree,
as you’re the one who writes it, so emphatically.
Bump, buzz, bump again, all around the shed,
what a painful horror story, for your little head,
fly, land, fly once more, caught up in a trap,
why do you persist with such a dangerous bloody path?
The rules and opposition, the habit of our kind,
we say that we are beautiful, though operation’s blind,
scoring the appalling, sleeping sound in bed,
snoring and ignoring, enjoying being dead.
Bump, buzz, bump again, all around the sheds,
what a painful horror story, for our little heads,
fly, land, fly once more, caught up in a trap,
why do we persist with such a dangerous bloody path?
-
Author:
AuburnScribbler (
Offline) - Published: September 10th, 2024 07:59
- Comment from author about the poem: When it comes to our ways and the way of the Bluebottle, they are quite alike. As in general, we, like it, keep on persisting with such a painful plan, that always ends up in hurt. For the Bluebottle, when its trapped by its own design by flying in, it keeps on banging its head against a conservatory/shed window again and again, though the window is clearly open for it to fly out. For us, because of a similar misplaced curiosity and pride, we setup our own snare and pain, by choosing not to change for the better, to prolong such a sad reality, but if we just had our eyes and minds open to truly care, we can revise such a calamitous operation too. With this, I thought I would write this one, and alright! Yes! My "promenade poems" will make their return. I hope that you enjoy, and take something from this poem, if you are in any unnecessary pain, please treat it, or if you can, cure it, and as always, please do stay safe everyone.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments4
A fun read that well could be a nursery rhyme and with a message too. Nicely written
Thanks for the read sorenbarrett, for your kind words, and yes, it does have a "nursery rhyme" like feel to it doesn't it? Must be the chorus repeating, eh!?
Thanks again, and I hope that all is well.
Excellent write
Thanks for the read and for your lovely comment Tony36.
I hope that all is well.
You're welcome, all is going well with me. Hope you are doing well Auburn
Good write Ben, yes they do not seem to know how to escape as we try to escape from the horrors of the world in a similar way.
Andy
Thanks for the read Andy, and I am glad that you fully understand the comparisons.
I hope that all is well.
You hope the fly stays...safe?! For all the yellow, sticky tongues of flypaper hung above our prairie kitchen table in my early teens, loaded up until the fly carcasses dropped on our dinner, I've never wished a fly safety. Interesting concept where I come frae. Beautifully rendered to effect with great imagery and poignancy, despite its dedication to the fly. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for the read Cheeky Missy and for your heartwarming response, it is very much appreciated.
Bless you, the flies and your flypaper, and also the mishaps of having "extra protein" dropping onto your plate. Perhaps there should be a parasol for the parasol on your table eh!? Hahaha!
Thanks again, and I hope that all is well.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.