Free-Verse Friday

by Frost on May 20, 2011

The Grind

A day begins like many past, time’s passage barely tracked
Hot Irish Cream, in steel mug steams
Unsweetened, bitter, black.

Old sandals kicked from carefree feet, replaced by shallow shine
A shirt tucked in, A tie straightened
One more ant gets into line.

This human slumps, straight back now hunched, into his Aeron throne
Inbox checked for daily dreck,
Assigned to timid drones.

But wait! This soft-flabbed husk of a man, beneath, within lurks a beast!
A savage meat-eater, a hunter and breeder
Heart-beating, spear-wielding, blood-greased.

Trace his bloodline farther back, and the wonders you will find
A mammoth slain, with axe blood-stain’d
Quick feet, and agile mind.

A tribal leader also full, of hunger, passion, fire
His lust for blood, wars fought for mud
Only death made the warrior tire.

Nearer still to civil times, many masterpieces wrought
By the hero’s son, who with paintings won
The hearts of the women he sought.

Return now to our office drone, in the year two-thousand ten,
His life not cruel nor dangerous
Not like those savage men!

No spear required, not in this life, his sword need not be unsheathed,
His duels now fought with PowerPoint,
Fresh meat, Whole Foods bequeaths.

His mate he’ll seduce, if that is the word, not with any talent or wit,
But via E-Harmony, where his income he’ll list
And his interests are cleverly writ.

The good life he seeks – job, family and friends –security, safety and peace
But in blood lurks a creature, an animal born
Of his savage ancestors deceased.

{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }

Pimpin Pete November 30, 2011 at 7:29 pm

Nice job Frost, the poem does a great job of capturing the struggle the modern man faces when it comes to reconciling himself with his evolutionary history. On the technical note removing some of the articles may make it flow more smoothly. Keep up the good work, it inspires the rest of us lost twenty-somethings.

Mister Lettuce May 31, 2011 at 4:05 pm

Nice poem, Frost.

But, I’m not sure how to feel about it. Should I be happy that life is no longer quick and brutal? Or should I lament the loss of freedom and excitement our ancestors faced? It all seems like a sad malaise to me.

Ancalgon May 29, 2011 at 8:11 pm

Good poem. I’m interested in poetry, and I looked up this form a bit, and apparently it corresponds to something called Terza Rima (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terza_rima), first used by Dante. So you’re in good company.

Keep up with the posts! (you could make commenting a bit easier for people already logged into WP if this site is still Wordpress-powered).

Also, what about Trig? Time for Chapter 5, possibly.

Cheers,
A

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