Rage in the West
By Richard L. Provencher
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The fire is on
a rage
of destination
eschewing skeletons
and other
innocence now
shards
of outer skin into
burnt dust
and the wind
ts pushing its feral
companion-
a haunting glow
determined as a plow
with an agenda.
Relentless.
Overcoming.
Destroyer of woodsy attire.
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Comments
I thought this was very
I thought this was very strong, I hope this is not written from your own experience, and that you have no fear of fire near you? They must be terrifying.
The first part, where you end on "destination", conveys a horrible sense of a kind of sentient motivation, reinforced later by "agenda". I really like the third part, with "pushing" having a wind sound but also action, and "feral" in one word describing a light not cosy from windows, or safe like street lamps.
Is there a typo "ts" in third part? I sympathise with you having computer troubles :0)
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My...I felt the rush of
My...I felt the rush of destruction, the heat of it, almost the smell of burnt skin. Such a catastrophic destroyer, unstoppable...fire.
very powerful poem as if you were in it. God I hope you weren't.
thank you Richard L Provencher Marcia Marcia
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