Marc Swan, 7/12

Wild Fire


In the rambling wreck of uncertainty

we call day to day life


so far from the predictability we knew

as a child in a far away time


when rivers flowed cleaner and purer,

grass a true green, no additives,


flowers bloomed wild and crazy,

people passed on the street said hell-o


how are you and actually meant it.

Unlike today when simple kindness


is lost to malice aforethought—

new and improved killing fields.


A bullet’s worth more than a life

in Somalia where they carry their guns


as easily as we carry a wallet tucked

into the hip pocket of our jeans.


Wild berries still grow above the tree line,

if only the raven could teach us to fly.

Promote. Poetry.
FacebookTwitterGoogle+PinterestBlogger PostTumblrGoogle GmailLineYahoo MailRediff MyPageKindle ItGoogle BookmarksShare