- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Controlling Forces
When the darkness comes out to play,
I breathe a sigh of eternal relief.
The roses elicit a sweet and lasting bouquet
Where my heart was plucked by a silent thief.
The thorn of life struck me more than once
And I nearly fled from clandestine shores.
The taste of blood stayed with me for months
The bottle of wine lay broken by the door.
Waste not, want not forever more
Thine eyes cast daggers for sights unseen,
And yet mine heart remains solely an adventurer
Where the past is the future and nothing is routine.
I raise my goblet as though to dare
And the parchment before me lay in shreds.
My pen and indigo ink cast in despair
Then come what may, birthed thoroughbreds!
Former days seem better than the lies that were cast,
Candles replaced by electric lights.
I’m holding tightly to those days unsurpassed
Where the pen is mightier for human rights.
Battles were fought over selfish needs
And men lie dying in mud lined trenches.
How can this life be overcome with greed
While at another time sit silent lovers on park benches?
To observe this sad state from a timeless room
Staring through a vile glass orb while unseen
Vested by a power that can cast shadow and doom
How can we remove this political machine?
© 2015 Deb Hirt