Creation
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The universe that wasn’t . . . just . . . got . . . bored.
It yawned and burped out big time. From the yawn
And belch exploded out a countless horde
Of searing, smashing things like stars, and in this dawn
Of beings, peopled several parallel
Dimensions filled with useless things like gods
And paradises — each with its own hell.
This miscellaneous production’s squads
Included sin and pleasures and their shades
Called righteousness and grimness colored like
A Black Hole or a Holocaust with braids
For Rastafarians in Hitler’s Reich.
The yawning and the burping spread so wide
That every hope and smile began to slide.
~ Phillip Whidden