PyrotechnicsA Poem by Wilyem Clark
Phony thunder.
Those aerial bursts in the distance-- I used to enjoy them. Now? They are no more to me than Smoke and bluster, banal ritual, Igniting the heavens for the sake of Pollution, fire, and noise. These things we have in abundance; We don't need more. More important these days Is quietude: A chance to relax, to contemplate; Time off from videos, chat, And endless thumb-scrolling; Less rush-rush and round up the kids, A generation force-fed like geese With copious buckets of stimulation To fatten them up for careers of exhaustion. We all like excitement and pretty displays, But where can we retreat from all that Except within ourselves? © 2019 Wilyem Clark |
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1 Review Added on August 5, 2019 Last Updated on August 5, 2019 AuthorWilyem ClarkWashington, DCAboutI've been writing poems since my teens (now in my 60s) and prose since the 1990s. It's been hard finding decent forums online--the free websites too often suffer sudden deaths. My "published" works ar.. more..Writing
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