Hypocrite

Hypocrisy in humans, hypocrisy in nature

Rain falls like sheets,

and spurts,

and dribbles,

and stops.

And nature holds her breath.

 

The willow stops weeping and peers

around her scraggly, crumpled hair.

A robin twitches.

The bloody chest jumps.

 

The ground feels alive.

It breathes underfoot,

soft and moist and springy.

Lie on the grass,

the slumbering giant.

 

Eyes are liars.

They say green; look

and little yellow bones

tickle your nose.

Fields of little brown men decaying;

dying at the hands of moist moss.

It’s begun again.

A robin twitches.

Blood flashes.

Nature weeps for the soldiers,

and feeds their murderers.

Reviews

[John Pollock]

I don't think it's fair that you call yourself an amateur poet when you've obviously been trained by Emily Dickinson. This is marvelous.

[Preliving]

I think you might be exaggerating SLIGHTLY, but thank you very much! I really appreciate you taking the time to read and review.

[John Pollock]

Not a problem. I've read more of your work, and I think it's always rewarding. :) Keep going!

[Rob Santana]

You create strong imagery. Well done.

[ANTO]

I'll never be able to watch another robin without thinking of it twitching and flashing bloody chest. You have a real way with words preliving