Stop Talking

[Quixotic the Pedestrian]

This is sort of out of my usual style, but is the latest poem I've written. It is about the suppression of the minority (not race) by their views. Sorry it was mistyped before.

Listen to the trees and stare through the dreams.
Burn wholes through the seams of Charlotte’s Web.
Turn down one more screaming whisper
While two more burdens to carry turn up.
The willowing flowers start talking,
But the ruling bees do their silence walking.
For three tiny tip-toeing steps forward.
There’s four more sea filled tears flowing.
The wind blowing; and only poets knowing
Zigzag and out of line, with only failures showing.
Now it’s the other whispers screaming.
Napalm sticking, fear attracting, five committee beasts attacking.
See six sanctum sorrowed sneers watching
But there’s no reacting.
Because the willowing flowers start talking
But the ruling bees do their silence walking.
Brightness shines it’s rejuvenate head.
It’s seven broken bones
But eight far-reaching limbs
Mistake ridden words from best interest friends
No one understands, but no one ever will.
Strike for the beating down bees with their stings.
It’s been nine beat chest yards,
But one thousand left to go.
The willing flowers start talking
But the ruling bees will always do their silence walking.

 

[delicate_flower]

I like that... I like the imagery you have in your poem. It's good.

 

[Quixotic the Pedestrian]

thanks. I don't typically use as many metaphors.. because when they are performed audibly it's much harder to match the analogies so quickly.