Monday, August 06, 2018


As once again, I face an empty page,
I seek to vent a turmoil deep within:
A seething anger, bordering on rage;
A helpless fury, bordering on sin.
I seek to channel passion into words,
And phrases that bespeak my frame of mind.
But thunderbolts and flaming firebirds,
Can’t capture all the terrors I can find.
I revel in the vast descriptive hoard;
The rare anthology of all that’s vile.
I search among the options till I’m bored,
My zeal and fervor cooling all the while.
Before I can attack all that I hate,
My anger has a chance to dissipate.

Mick McKellar
August 2018

It takes time to write a poem. This gives me a chance to chew on the subject matter and, perhaps, bite my tongue once or twice…


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