The Bravest Beaver

Trepidation bests the bravest beaver.

The protection it provides is eternally temporal,

Until thought of hubris reigns,

Crafting rains of aquatic torment.

Foliage is painted with cartilage,

From those too wholesome to live.

Young weasels unscathed by fire,

Further starve those in water.

Slamming chords of mischievous instruments,

Cause snared beasts to helplessly cower.

In homes of bloodied limbs and venison,

Transformed by rhythmic toddlers.

Animals trembling from grieving stomachs,

Sharply yawp at their ageless deities.

Blunt pleas are blatantly ignored,

And hearts are sluggishly dried.

Flashes of light display hope,

But sources shine from gluttonous hunters,

Looking for easy prey,

Added to eternally temporal prisons.

–Kevin J Flors

Thanks for reading.

Picture from Pexels

Guardians of Wealth

Gracious guardians of wealth,

Form more perfect unions,

To promote private welfare,

To free others from further suffering.

While they start harvesting,

Those who afford to live,

In a land far less free,

Than a homely Cuban bay.

Those who dare stray,

These rich goliaths,

Throw shiny rocks,

Entertaining drab shepherds,

As their young get devoured by leopards.

Justice enforced by slaves,

Inevitably dying,

From waves of disdain,

Or grams of cocaine.

Undivided attention is what,

Gargoyles of greed crave.

Devout to no god,

But those they can’t prod.

Yet towns filled with,

Adoration and sympathy,

Giving wishes only of good health,

To these gracious guardians of wealth.

— Kevin J Flors

Thanks for reading. The recent Emmy’s award show inspired me to write this and it turned more political then I had thought it would when I started. The main feature of this poem that I love is on the technical level. I am proud of the rhyme scheme I incorporated in between the stanzas. I am also proud of the references I sprinkle into the poem, because I normally stray away from allusions and the like. With that being said, it brings about an interesting viewpoint. I do not want this poem to be one that numbs people to good deeds done by those that are these, “guardians of wealth.” I just want to provide a new perspective to how American society can be viewed and help people think of new perspectives when it comes to the capitalistic society we live in.

Picture from Pexels

Grief

The moonlight was dull,

Cold in candescence.

His old home,

It too birthing pestilence.

Bound by memories,

Of a phantom time,

Old and ruined,

Like ashy graves of grime.

He sheltered his body,

Sheltered his mind,

Until one day,

He’d chose to unbind.

Opening the door,

Peek and gauge,

Careful surgeon,

Under rib—.

Slammed door,

Retreating back inside,

Now rejoicing by his relief,

And clarity being revived.

Countless moons had passed,

Staring with what was left of his crusted eyes,

At a vase given to him,

By a woman who spoke in sympathetic lies.

Angels told him to forgive,

Devils told him to forfeit,

Confused agony and sorrow,

He decided to remain in conflict.

The Earth continued to orbit,

The walls continued to crack,

The voice of his mother,

Demanding that he go back.

After much thought,

The man stood decrepit,

But nevertheless tall,

And walked without spit.

Door had grew larger,

Towering portal,

Turned key,

No mor—.

Sun shone,

With warm candescence,

A new home,

With no more pestilence.

-Kevin Joseph Flors

Thanks for reading. Song.

(Photograph from Pexels.com)

Despairing Silence

Silent, the armadillos sit,

Staring at a seductive darkness.

A stabbing sky shelters stars,

Which sharpen signs of sickness.

Empty, the armadillos hunt.

An agile insect darts,

But persistence cannot evade,

Desperate, broken hearts.

Tired, the armadillos sleep.

The beasts belittle and scoff,

At their inability to do,

What restless minds stave off.

Still empty armadillos die,

Not from lacking substance,

But from themselves,

And their despairing silence.

-Kevin Joseph Flors

Thanks for reading. Song

Bad Habits

A cavern shrouded in snow,

Home to air and ice,

When weary, the bear emerges,

Dormant on shards of vice.

A light which wakes blind mice,

And refines snow to steam,

Merely reflects off its claws,

Forming a chronic beam.

A noise could not halt its dream.

Neither thought nor prayer,

Which one’s love urges,

Could wake this bear.

A fate none hope to share,

For this bear does not know,

To walk on its paws,

Its own mind must grow.

— Kevin Joseph Flors

Thanks for reading! Don’t know about future post times, however expecting a post within the next week would be reasonable.

Song

(Photo from Pexels)

Poem: Another Rainy Day

The menacing rain

Sung a song with the dim clouds

About its dark woes

Yet dancing children

In the summer’s worst torrent

Sent cheers to the sky

The heavy rain’s drops,

Hugged the bare arms of the kids,

As they grew goose-bumps.

The rough, robust winds,

Attacked the youths with their whips,

And sharpened daggers.

The kids retreated.

When the winds teased and snickered,

The youths brought armor.

The winds surrendered,

After seeing their soft shells,

And the kids had won.

I hope you enjoyed the poem. I would like to also include a fresh, new song after each post. So here is Thirsty Man by Blitzen Trapper : http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWbKrhqufU8

Plate of Soup

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Tag: kevin’s poetry