The Butcher
©Dec. 19th 2019, Olan L. Smith
The wrestler slams the opponent to the floor, and pins
The shoulders down before counting to ten,
A winner is crowned, but cleanse the blood off the mat,
Before the next round, we understand
Another match is assured from the deeds we witness.
Boundaries are crossed, words said, and someone will throw
The first punch; can we learn? It is our state of mind.
Memory is short-lived in every flavor, so
Our deeds are forgotten. We are mistake-prone.
We wallow in ignorance unable to live peacefully,
To see beyond. Come all teachers and preachers,
Orate our mistakes, so youth can shout from the bleachers
"Give me give me a future, give me hope, give me a life
That I live without fear of the butcher."
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poetry"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
