The wind rescinds the harsh rule of the regent.
It blows his fleet of fierce ships aground.
The revolution spreads out like detergent
on an oil slick. It’s the biggest stain around.

The people on the even streets are insurgent;
they put the odd street people to the sword
which sounds that bit more classical than ‘murder’
but hurts as much. Such power has a word

that a haberdasher – good teeth, wavy hair
and a voice like John Wayne – commands the news.
Each day he smiles on television beaming
misinformation that the strife is over

until it is. Then, at the crowd’s suggestion,
he moves into the palace, and parades
on feast days, and survivors open shops
and all is as before. It never stops.

4 thoughts on “Revolution

  1. Alan

    Leave it to a “Dutchman” to rhapsodize about the wind and its power or fury!

    As a “Scot”, we just complain, lean against it, and swing freely with our 14 sticks!

    Am off to Germany this weekend for a Business Conf. in Taunus then D’dorf but no time for a detour to your nice part of the world. For me it will have to be our lowland home in Nassau St (and dinner tonite with a Durth classmate of Bea “Trixie” as they called her in secondary school…Jill’s best friend). My work is less creative than yours so please keep poems coming

  2. Prachtig begin van een nieuwe serie. Het schildert een beeld dat ik zie en begrijp, zonder dat ik alle woorden hoef te kennen. Vanuit Sevilla, hartelijke groet, André

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