On Edge

Content or complacent

The words that whole nations sent

Teetering on edge

Debate of all the hem and hedge

Plunging down cliffside oceans

For fear of others’ heaving shuns.


I would not call you pent

But I think that we could name you spent

Rent or wrote on broken arms

Contentment is triumphant harm

Rendered at the end of wrestling gods—

Beyond the scope of mortal nods.

6 thoughts on “On Edge

  1. nice…i feel like you really take off in the second stanza man…love all the quick rhyme in it….i like the triumphant harm after wrestling with gods….even if you gotta lips a little…smiles.

  2. I’m intrigued and pleased by your word choices in what seems to be a social/political piece. Intrigued because I use so many of them to describe myself and I am anything but political.

  3. What of power mongers’ rants and raves when all it means is death, destruction, upheaval, the loss of life and property and all for what – some tinpot god! You have it here in it’s simplest and subtlest form. Excellent work Chris. Hope you’re doing well. I think of you often! Sending love and blessings.

  4. Pingback: aspirations or acts of futility? | Miriam Gomberg

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