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Locusts

like wayward thoughts,
in swirling swarm,
dark pestilence 
from nowhere
suddenly descends
upon verdant farms,
darkening the summer
noonday sky;

hapless, helpless,
whole villages
scramble, stumble,
trying to fan
smoky embers
of hastily built bonfires,
to stoke torches' failing flames,
ah, frantic futility!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 8/17/2009 8:05:00 AM
Good morning Romeo. Thank you for sharing your poetry with us today. I truly enjoyed reading it. It has been awhile. Love, Carol
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Date: 8/17/2009 3:30:00 AM
Nature at its worse for those in its path. Like our thoughts that can run rampid. Love it. Keep writing. Will add to my favs. Sara
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