Bullets

Just a short poem or whatever about something that flashed into my head a saturday morning.

Like waves, thousands of them ripple

from the sky and pierce the stone and ground.

 

Flying in circles from the four winds.

 

Hailing from the heavens like beams

of light. Falling to the earth and hitting with such force.

 

The sound resembles small beads of

lightning crashing on a steel drum.

 

As they clash and fall to the dirt,

the ripples of motion create a vicious dance

of metal fairies.

 

Bringing death and saving lives.

 

Bullets.

Author's Note

Just another way to look at something that happens every day. May the wars of the world soon be over.

Reviews

[Raven Wilson]

If wars did not exist than peace would not either. Such balances no matter how devastating are needed to make everything better again. But I like this view, it brings a new element to the events of the world today, a new vision instead of money or who vs. who.