The Blowfly-Grumbler (Sonnet) Poem by Gert Strydom

As an impudent little thing it does fly around and around a person
so that you want to hit it down and in your thoughts it's cursed
when it wants to carry pestilence from any kind of dung to a wound
or do try to land in the jam or whatever is in the pantry
as if it wants to carry death from any rotten thing on the ground
but that little insect do harass people even if you are healthy
and sometimes caught in a window it grumbles up and down
as if it is the first messenger of the final abyss
where it searches for any rotting, stinking rubbish,
is one of the most prominent visitors at an open grave
with small wings going up and down faster than the eye can see
so that you have got to buy a fly-swatter
as if this thing do serve nothing less than Satan himself
do want to hit it out of life and existence as if it does deserve it.

© Gert Strydom