-a Poetess Dreams-

She, in the land of confusion, so fruitfully penned. Never for a second sensing the animosity with which her words were read. Far from being a duncette, she was so naive to express her beliefs and hopes in her heart and head, Alas! She knew something was wrong. Behind that papal sentimental use of God, so overused in poetry. The air so smoldering with the total absence of humility. Worse,those poets so overjoyed to destroy other countries And to rebuke other leadeers as evil and wrong! Such parochiality and endemic immorality. Weak, seedy keyboard poetic plurality. She dreamt of a sane place to pen, Not in dread, but she knew not where nor when. Hence fell a hot tear fell and into a wintry sunset, she stared. Whom could she trust? To whom, could she her tender soul bare? 12/14/2020