Frogs Slowly Boiling

He’s destroyed the sparrow nest
and he leaves the detritus

piled beneath the bird box.
This morning I see feathers

weighted by raindrops to the wet
grass. I take inventory, six

of them plucked–from a kill?
Surely too many from preening.

I have found corpses–decay so foul
I gagged at ten yards–warming

their nests. Do they worship a god
who insists all this is theirs to

conquer, the lives they displace
have no worth? This malice is not

personal. It’s deep-seated elitism.
They casually kill the living beings

in their way, like colonists in
a new land, destroying the native

population with no remorse,
not even an inkling of the despair

their actions leave a trail
of destruction. My stance crunching

bones of the ones who came before,
I heed this niggling twinge,

the trace of my society’s crimes.
There is no peace here. In the tangled

roots of jealous acquisition,
we nurture the beast blindly

take comfort in the slow
poisoning of all we know.

Inspired by Jealous, Inventory, Peace and Nurture and the reason it’s unedited is because it’s written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: leaves.  The rules are no editing, just write it and press publish.  So difficult to do!

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Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

3 thoughts on “Frogs Slowly Boiling”

      1. It’s fun, isn’t it? A much more in-depth look at what people are thinking than you normally get. We edit so many of our thoughts out of our writing when we’re allowed to edit! 🙂


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