Here comes the rooster Poem, by marissa, at My poetic side

Almost time for the end of this battle

Writing in pain

Shuffle and rattle

You’re the sound of the bullet

In a black and white movie

You’re the rooster

In a heavily sedated world

Our fruits are synthetic and our grass is plastic

But you’re the sun

That’s the only real thing

Everything governed

Life’s violently drastic

Make no decisions and have no regrets

Writing in pain ain’t nothing

When the pen is a quill

And the feather is the roosters

Comments +

sorenbarrett April 18th, 2026 15:37
I love the cryptic nature of this poem where metaphor is layered and meaning is almost apparent but not quite. We live in a false world of plastic whether objects or people and in this world even the pen is a combination of the real and the false. Very nicely written and a fave

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