Land Whims Poem by Edi Soric
Land Whims
It falls ground from the sky,
the planet is drunk by bad manure,
it rains wax on the roofs,
the raptors make their commissions,
it snows grains of sand on the volcanos,
the powerful ones exploit us and spit their venom,
it melts on the sea some gracious rivers,
the rain will come to wash the hand of the innocent one.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: land
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4/25/2024 9:30:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
