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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1271642
Judge for yourself.
Anger’s Snap

Mopey looking brother, humour gone,
Another shot astray, strikes the ground he’s on.
I joke and play, not too bad,
Try to beat the feelings making him sad.
Yet again he gets it wrong,
Jerks his club out like a prong.

Light behaviour seems to win,
A smile shoves the anger in the bin.
Bad mood lifts with abrupt effect,
The next hole as a good as decked.
Concentrate for his shot, easy no more than an inch,
Mischievous mind, give him just a pinch.

Suddenly feelings change, a dark cloud forms,
Catalytic spear swings, contact sparks the storms.
Good humour gone, eyes turn black,
Blind fury fills from just one crack.
How dare he strike,
With that cultured pike.

Retaliation’s swift,
I pummel out my return gift.
Fallen now to the floor,
I’ve broken through common senses door.
Kick, kick, punch, punch,
Body bent in reaching hunch.

See no light which calls for cease,
Fallen into that dark, violent crease.
Pain still burns as bright as hell,
Within the wound the spear did tell.
Fuels hatred, anger peaks,
Hastening bolts, those painful streaks.

Soon raw feeling recedes,
Til common sense once more feeds.
Slowly realisation of what’s occurred,
The roar has shrunk and now is purred.
Drawing back to view what’s done,
The other lying, so simple to stun.

Both know events lost control,
Both never want to look back into that bowl.
Drawn apart, emotion reduced,
Small stabs are all that’s now juiced.
I know up front I was right,
But deep down, there is real sight.
Should have kept feeling down,
Should have left it there to drown.
Instead lost dignity and sense,
Leaving myself part of only one sense.
Now too late to mend the crack,
Left only with the imprint of the original smack.

Watching other leave the scene,
I contemplate what is and what’s been.
Feeling so far gone, leaving sight clear,
See what I’ve been taught, ignoring the fear.
Forgive and forget is all I now see,
So with that, I pick up my bag and stroll to the next tee.
© Copyright 2007 Tom Mackey (tommackey at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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