My Country Denies Me of Marigolds| POETRY

in Freewriters2 years ago

873-07156961em-zulu-dancer-shakaland.jpg

I wake every morning into
a circus of worries—
what doom will this country
birth today?
and it's just what it's;
my country is a museum for grief.
I want to language the litany of joy
in every poem my pen pukes
but, how do you write about
a substance too inexistent?
You lay your words as heralds
on the body of a paper,
and you end with a note
which tells, this piece of art is
absolutely a fiction.

Still, there is something
about this fiction—
a reader, certainly from
a different country will find
his universe in your work :
say his leaders aren't kleptomaniac
say the cops don't whistle a
requiem with their guns.
he'll scream, this is my country!
In this, you know your
country denies you of marigolds.

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This..."my country is a museum for grief" ... is a beautiful line of poetry!

Oh, but how about, "say the cops don't whistle a requiem with their guns"?

Thanks for bringing this to my attention, miri.

Wow dear, this one is different from your usual style. Nice, keep reinventing, have a great day 😊🙏