December 31, 1982 4:45 p.m. Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri

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Quiet Quarrel

Silence speaks such serenity
Anger always arrives too soon.
A little compassion, a little fruition
And at times we will all sing in tune.

If nothing but peace falls to pieces
And with anger arriving too soon
I speak for compassion, now growth intuition
No soft pure and bright honeymoon.

Even elysium always away
Tension tugs, terror regains
No more that compassion, it gives no fruition
And soft pleasures, they turn to harsh pains.

1982

copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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