Serrated Dew-covered Blossoms

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The swaying of the snake across the pond

Is beauty as we know it, as we seize

The loveliness of life — and death beyond —

If such a thing exists.  Our lands and seas

Acrawl with poison’s patterns are our lot.

No other options are God’s proffer for

Our dawns and twilights.  Fangs and colors hot

As cores of stars are offered, nothing more,

And, so, we have to use our minds as best

We can to cope with curving, gilded wrong

And parting scum as green as hoping west,

As scales that shine where we as creatures long.

  Ideals are what we long for.  What we get

    Are crafted jewels on scimitars of threat.

© Phillip Whidden