Poetry
(Swift bucket)
I don’t want to wipe you out like I did with that bully as a child
The small metal rod that I found with the round barring mid way through its shaft that was discarded
On the street
Along a gutter
It fit in my pocket
But impeded my riding
When I peddled
It went into his spokes and he flipped
On the street
When I tossed it backward effortlessly
Stopping the predator
With his sharp teeth
Someone was looking out for me
Maybe it was my grandfather that was murdered
His ghost wanting justice
I had this ability to fool monsters
Control their anger
Change their fierceness
So blood would not be spilled
Teach others to be brave
Climb the tree tops
Fearlessly and with a exact
Way of camouflage
So everyone’s skin would be in tact
And the creature inside is all
Would only feed on the right food
Be nourished without
Tearing flesh.
There was a pulsation of terror
In all of us
It ran along a current and a pulse
Into a swift bucket
And become placid
The gentleness shrine
A safety in the lodging of emotions
The ladder that would take you to
A new personal cloud
To a daydream of your own
Where violence would place his top hat
In a proper box
And anger would travel better
With everything in tact
Style unfettered
But still it had a dignity
The boxer on the inanimate
Bag
The jab as a punch line
The fist as the wit and
The invisible line
That would protect you from
Unravelling in a whirlwind
Becoming starlight in a
Peaceful Galaxy
A mossy field cool and shaded
With cast beams of light
Helping us stand upright
With dignity
Fighting a better fight.
Francis A willey
June 13 2023