Imagine the power – rapids
rushing to the edge,
foamy haze
bubbling to the surface and bursting
as they smash

on rocks before
cascading in roars through a jungle
of watery falls
and tumbling with the audacious
desire to smack

the water below
in a cacophony of damp shallows
– that befalls
the man in the barrel,
altitude depleted.

Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019

Posted to dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Frank asks us to write a poem that includes descriptive detail and makes the reader want to re-read … so maybe read it again.

34 thoughts on “Waterfalls

  1. We are all in the barrel, we know it, we hear it, entropy pulls us one direction, but like you ending we almost always seem surprised. This is either terrifying or comforting, one can either just enjoy the floating ride until the inevitable and not worry. Or one can worry. See you on the outspout or the undertow friend. I hope we choose to enjoy the ride.

    Liked by 1 person

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