THE PLAGUE

This storm-like wind
Blowing from West to East
Swaying tress without rest
Spreading storms of dust
For how long will it blow

The violent wind
That rob our soil its nutrients
Blowing the soil to the yonder
Enriching our foe
When will it stop to blow
And restore the calmness
That we had before

The locusts from the North
Enjoyed a free ride of the wind
And rested on our green land
The result is a bare ugliness
Nothing left to lay on our hands

The sky is always clear
With no traces of rain clouds
The wind is blowing without fear
Bringing to us a great war
Which is to be fought without swords
But by the anger of rattling stomachs
This season we shall eat “the red goat”
For the winds left us poor
With no grain to feed on

@Sebby_The Poet™
All rights reserved
©2016

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s