Starling, from an Edwardian print
It started with an observation, inviting easy conversation,
limited in character, with a limit to its characters:
just casual information.
Anticipating backchat I introduced a hashtag,
innocuous I hoped:
this was no dissertation.
But what I got was cruel flak,
full of bile,
a tweet of hateful defamation.
A vicious far-right bigot preached a creed too awful to ignore.
I’d thought my fine right thinking speech would carry all before.
Joined by others, screeching, twittering,
startled starlings in a frenzied flock,
what choices did they choose to leave me?
Well, just one, which was to block.
You think you’re altogether very clever?
You’re just a witless bullying clown.
You won’t defeat or even beat me, and you’ll fail to grind me down.
with death cult insults and selfish goals,
I hope you learn the tide will turn
and send you crawling to your hole.
Another poem written for writing class, adopting another’s voice, but I add this advice: