Fragrance
FRAGRANCE
It’s the fragrance, mother;
the intoxicating crispy fragrance
of colored newly mint coinage.
Sometimes the shimmering glitter
of gold or silver.
It matters not mother
what figures are imprinted on,
just the fragrance!
The fragrance that drives me
to plunder my core,
to pillage my country to nothing,
squandering it to desolation.
The fragrance that possesses me
to bare my nakedness to them,
to vend my soul’s worth,
to trade my country’s worth!
The fragrance that devours me
and sparks hunger pangs,
coercing me to crave and covet theirs
staining my hands with blood !
It’s the fragrance mother;
the musky musty odor
of old and used notes,
sometimes the dull hue of coinage
that quenches my thirst and ardor!
It matters not mother
what figures are imprinted on
Just the fragrance mother!
Just the fragrance.
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.
