Fireworks

There’s a screaming banshee, that flashes bright
As a bonfire, with flames of red and gold;
Blinding your eyes in the darkness of night,
And with heat dissipated, leaves you cold.
Waves of emotion burst forth, asunder,
Dashed against rocky strands burdened by fear;
Roaring forth with the echo of thunder,
Splashing bystanders because they are near.
Epithet hammers beat hard on the mind,
Laced densely with empty vulgarities;
Coherent thoughts are too scattered to find,
Passion and fire blow away in the breeze.
To put your debate in certain danger:
Speak without thought in haste and in anger.

Mick McKellar
June 2018

Too often, of late, I find my own pyrotechnic displays getting out of hand.

Mick