O beautiful,
the sky so blue,
I’m coming home to you.

October snow laid to waste
the final days of autumn.
And on them fell,
rotting away,
the first days of November.

The wheels are spinning,
the tabloids read,
the gossip columns winning.
We’ll paint them blue,
blue and red,
the media choir singing.

Is it any wonder, then,
that the straw-man stands
mighty in his castle,
sinking in the sand?
Is it any wonder, then,
that this quagmire that they wrote
has come to burst asunder,
a blunder every note?

Trackless waste gives way to midnight
as time begins to slip away.
And am I standing in the choir
or sinking in the bay?

Is it any wonder, then,
that it came to this?
By fire or by ice,
the poets asked,
with a whimper or a bang.
No, I say, the end will come
by way of bliss —
and you know what they’ve said of this.

Some notes…

I’d love if you let me know what you thought of this poem. I’ve drawn inspiration from several sources, notably “America the Beautiful” and two poets, T.S. Eliot and Robert Frost (their poems “The Hollow Men” and “Fire and Ice”).

If you enjoyed this poem, feel free to check out my poem “Quartet,” another metaphorical read with similar messages, or any of my other work.

Plus, I have a collection of short stories and poetry available on Amazon for just $0.99! Check it out here.

Thanks so much for reading!

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