A Pale Drop

A Droplet - 
A Concoction of Brine
Flows from the Foreboding;
A Hansel of Distress
A Signal of Fear.
Swivels and Swerves
Creeping and Crawling
Clink Clank against each Strand
Dripping from Down Under;
Like a Venus Fly Trap
Leaching Life from its Prey
Until there’s Nothing left.

Beat Beat. 
The Hour drew near
Dramatic pose right, 
Dramatic pose left.
The Bubbles Blackened and Tainted,
With the Poison of the Earth
The Staffs filled up,
Meticulous, yet Mish-Mosh,
With the eerie tones of Failure
The First Letters of Latin
Which One? Which One?
Tinker Tinker.
Place Here. Place There.
An Electrifying yet Taxing
Chain Reaction.
One Place Over Two
Hermes Arrives:
la lettre mince
Beat. Beat. Beep.

“Fret not,
my Friend. 
Thy becomest a Spartan,
Full Fledged-
Take a Wife for Thyself-”
They Promised

But snakes cannot be Lions.
Hyenas cannot be Eagles.
As time ticks On,
So does the Sand.
Numbers turned into Crackers,
Gold turned into Bronze;
The gibberish on the Staff
Reduced to Rubbish.
A sea of Creatures:
Some white, black, Brown
Many yellow, pale, and Green.
Yet the lucid Creature,
Stayed Lucid.

High and Dry,
All to some Green Chap.
Yet what a waste.
No stars left to count.
No cookies left in the cookie jar.
No late night Uncle Jesse,
Or Mid-Morning Raven
All for One Drop
Just One Dark Bubble
Simply Folded Bark;
A Pale Drop-

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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