Futility In Grapes Of Wrath Poem by John Sensele

Grapes of wrath despite the fire
In your bosom they burn
Can't coalesce or coerce pressing problems to retire
Alongside frustrations and disappointments in the urn

That your world turns upside down
In lean times
That your pillow eiderdown
Limes in slimes

Raining from your eyes tears
Like fast running river water
Currents whose spears
In their sharpness batter

Your self esteem
To smithereens
Screaming and bouncing in stream
Screens and pins

From your delightful past
Have swollen
Doubt bouts cast
In stolen, crestfallen

Seesaws when your morale squeals
In its full span
Deals and reels
A regret van and pan

Floating and showboating
Restraining the anger
Clear, queer and nearby flying and floating
Pangs and gangs of hunger

Wrath can't cure
Your dilemma conundrum despite its cruelty
Lure, pure and sure
Peace of mind of the variety

That a level head
Without raising temperatures
Or ruffling feathers on a boisterous bed
Achieves in brand new conflict resolution cultures.