Whiskers
Whenever he reads a satire
even when not hit on head
his whiskers rise up
and lips tremble with rage
When misfortune visits opponent
he celebrates and bangs chest
wanting to call fire
to come down to finish
work started by ill luck
This is darkness of heart
shaped in actions
of the great but blind
Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment