Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.15.228.200
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
the yard was in a state of disarray
the caretaker there 
had been perceived
as being obtuse for offering as a quay
the promise of the gift of a coming day 

suspicion and rancor did hold prevail
surely it is too 
good to be true
we must quickly and collectively hail
the coming of a different way to assail 

what of our right to defend bigot and arm
yes surely we
can improve our
involvement to be part of overall farm
and here comes candidate chockful of charm 

“I will make change so fast ‘twill make head spin”
“but is that not
how some were
led to demise by similar reasoning
that head held tight would spin and spin again

until separated from bird left to squawk
around the yard
body running blind
now we really must think and truly not balk
at the implications of this fast new talk” 

“hold tongue ye lacking a true patriots heart
this creature is pure
speaks straight and true
we have no need for your groundless means of art
join the revolution or simply stand apart” 

and thus they did invite the hungry fox
that one fine day
without demanding
all that is gleaming at the bottom of the box
can’t be honesty though surely it mocks
 
“for we know this very creature is possessing
the cunning eye
the crafty way
and though he’s the gift of sweet caressing
he spins an artful dance of not addressing” 

“we had no choice” cries the opposing ken
“but, we had another
who surely had
qualification, articulation, manifestation
for in many ways she was groomed to have been 

but there it lurks behind Cheshire cat grin
the smug satisfaction
entitled reaching
the mentality that can only begin
to do whatever need be to secure a win"

the fox enters proudly becomes entrenched
the yard cheers loudly
surely change for all
the promise to remove suffering the quench
god forbid we should become as the french 

promises unraveled double-speak the rule
a little pluck
a bit of sup
they watch as the caricature begins to drool
“it is not I but ye who are the fool 

for I have cleverly shown that this melting pot
is not for all
but for those
who have got the mettle to bewitch and besot
ye thought I had misplaced that I somehow forgot 

a fox I am today and a fox I will be
the pot you saw
a bowl of soup
for those with similarly fashioned coterie
a way to gorge fatten and continue to feed” 

the fox pounces feathers scatter around
the last they see
the gleaming grin
the pompous twisted face of a fiendish clown
no one to hear cry or plea not a friend to be found
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required