The Researcher’s Insistence
A poem written in iambic tetrameter
Published in
Nov 20, 2021
The blank dismissal of the facts
is steeped in cold and calculating
red-fisted ignorance, he said
She didn’t disagree, although
it seemed a poor excuse to wash
her face with tears, her heart wrapped in
an icy isolation. Love tempts
us all to foolishness sometimes.
Hope turns to dust with just a word
translated through the blazing cold
and January’s killing breath
intimidates a living soul.
Want to listen? Here’s a recording of the author reading the poem:
This poem was written in response to the November 19th Daily Special Poetry Prompt, in which at least 5 words from a list needed to be used (one had to be in the title).
