Duncan Livingstone


Hundredth Lap With Bulls


It is still very early
And you cannot see clearly,
Sorry, I cannot see clearly
I carry a deadly whip
But he holds the heaviest plough
Till hundredth lap

'Whack! ' The whip on my back
And I have to pay dearly and dearly,
Sorry, you have to pay clearly or dearly
If you are caught sleeping
While bulls are awake in pack
Till a hundredth lap

Bulls are stubborn now
And the whip is heavier now,
Sorry, the plough is lighter
Bhang controls the plough
But before that hundredth lap
I've got my deserved slap

I can be twenty five today
But I long for the bulls,
Sorry, I long for the plough
Because a tractor cannot plough
Without making more laps
And maybe more slaps

Submitted: Sunday, May 26, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 06, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Hundredth Lap With Bulls by Duncan Livingstone )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Somtimes, tallulah montegue
  2. I cannot Forget You, tallulah montegue
  3. Haiku: Gravity Too, Brian Johnston
  4. Little Secret, Edgard Canales P
  5. Ebola, Is It Poetry
  6. Last Journey, Pradip Chattopadhyay
  7. Cat Nap..., Denis Martindale
  8. Blasphemy Is Light Which Beacons The Pat.., Bijay Kant Dubey
  9. The Tall One, tallulah montegue
  10. to be continued..., Mandolyn ...

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]