Don Iannone Poet Free verse

Misguided Power

In the hollows of power’s grip,
where shadows twist the heart’s cry,
there—mights build thrones on backs bent,
where abuse wears the mask of guidance,
control, a cloak woven with the thread of fear.
Power thrives in silence, feeding on the unspoken.

Manipulation, subtle as the serpent’s whisper,
curls around dreams, tightening,
threats drip, venomous, eroding hope,
indifference, a cold moon, shuns the warmth
of a shared sun, selfishness seizes, tight-fisted,
squelching the laughter of the young, the joy of the old.

The beauty of a soul, effaced,
a canvas scrubbed too raw,
bearing the brutal strokes of unkindness—
yet, beneath this, a pulse, a flicker:
resilience, a defiance against the night,
rising, always rising, despite the crush of the dark.

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Sotto Poet April 19, 2024 at 9:15 AM Don, your opinions are intelligent and deeply moving. Your poetry effectively captures the devastating impact of the abuse of power. I've observed it. Looking at it is rather unpleasant. The final verse demonstrates a strong commitment despite the potential consequences. Don Iannone April 19, 2024 at 9:20 AM Sotto, I truly appreciate what you have shared. By design, the poem can be understood from many standpoints. I always look at the 'ground' of power. Is it wealth, politics, beliefs and values, our sense of responsibility, fera or anger, mutual respect, or is the simple motivation to have power over others? Thank you. Don