It starts at a street‑corner park
—one match flicked wrong,
and the whole block tastes brimstone.
Kids stop mid‑kick of a half‑flat ball,
dogs stiffen,
old men lift their brows
—they’ve heard this tune before.
Then sky goes a bad fruit colour,
as every window leans to glare.
Still—
—someone laughs,
sharp snapping twigs,
and in that moment the world decides
to bloom the only way it knows how:
wild, unruly,
bright as a dare.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 14th, 2026 05:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments2
much enjoyed read
Cryptic this poem is tinted by my past. When eight or nine (can't remember exactly) at school recess on a dare from a friend, with a magnifying glass I set fire in a field that got out of control. The fire department had to be called to put it out. At the principal's office with my friend I had hidden the magnifying glass in the back of my pants denying any blame in the situation. The principal got out the large wooden paddle with drilled holes and I thought it was the end of the glass and my ass. It was my friend that got the punishment but he never gave me up. That is what friendship is all about. You have reminded me and may have to write a poem about it some day.
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