Flowers and Arrows
Multicolored hands dissolved the pain, that rose within me
You were there; certain you'd win your part in the ring
Condescension became sparks I used as light to see
I held to my song you sought to silence, by your sting
Once again, your buzz faded and you fell flat
Hold firm the religious reins of your horse, I say
I offered flowers; you strutted, and then turn back
I gave you your day, with garland and songs unforced
Self-made pedestal holds no sap like earth's wood
You may think me soft as gel, nay! I am mahogany!
Papa was carver of antiques from those trees, you understood...
His hands were guided by the Source, the root of my recovery.
*
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
