The Ancients
predicted
the skies would streak
the green pastures
with falling stars
the size of football fields,
setting the world
ablaze
in flames of fluorescence -
a consuming kiln
forging the iron scissors
to crimp and tailor
the fabric
of our intertwining destinies.
And that would be
the end
of life
as we know it.
The Ancients
predicted
the seas of fire
would subside as
seas of salt
would swell,
unleashing monsters
of blue
draped in squiggly
green
kelp
from the angry, obsidian depths
where in their cages they dwell;
the fickle creations of man
like the sorry scribbles
of naive sucklings
would be swept away
by the waters
to make the slate clean.
And that would be
the end
of the world
as we know it.
The sky did streak
the green grass
with blinding light -
floodlight
and
flashes,
all over the football field -
and the fire
of pain
did flame
creeping up my knee
as the army of twelve
crushed me
underneath,
the ball in my hand,
the line
just out of reach,
and then I lay stretched upon
the white sheet,
clutching the bloody, broken bones
of my destiny,
the scissors cutting
me
away
like a stained patch
from the rest of the fabric.
The monsters came too
in waves of blue
distraught
and green weeds
of jealousy
riding on tears
down my cheeks
and I tried
to battle them away
from consuming me,
meant to bear it all
without a bleat,
but when all
fickle illusions
of teammates
friends
dreams
and glory
are shred to dregs
why not my
fake, fearless
masculinity.
After all,
they were not
here by me
to see
the end
of the world
as I knew it.
And now
all I have,
finally,
is
plain
palping
clarity.
~*~
Written for The Thinky Ink-Scribers' Club. The prompt was "The End Of The World". Please vote if you liked it. And maybe comment your thoughts too? Thanks :)
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Random Spurts Of Poetry (#Wattys2016)
PoezjaWhen you can't paint with colours, Paint with words; When you can paint with words, Do you really need the colours? Achievements: #11 in Poetry (23/9/26) #13 in Poetry (22/9/16) #14 in Poetry (28/7/16)
