B follows A
And C proceeds D
It's a formula older than time
The lowest sink of
debauchery to the ilks
Of a sort seem sublime
A pail full of
Crabs
Will stay to the brim
Each holding the
Other
In place
That none should struggle
Perchance to escape
the fate some have
Chosen to face
As the pails contents
Scramble and roil
And the water before them
Comes to a boil
They gleefully chortle
To this hope that is mine
Don't be afraid the water is fine
Categories:
ilks, anxiety,
Form: Rhyme
The world wakes up oneday amidst a horror
We call it by the name Corona viral disease
It became apparent to all of us there is no succour
In times we had it before but now it is
A goblin to savour the precious lives
Being a contagion can spread widely across
Crossing continents and regions wide it thrives
Bringing tears to all people and an immense loss
Wonder is this a biological war to usurp us all
World wars killed people in combat and not this time
The need to be hygienic stupors past the call
With masks and social distancing to become the prime
Weapons to wage this war of liberation
It is time we stood united against the common foe
For it is no less than the acid rains that perished
The dinosaurs; will it do to the mankind too?
A vaccine to kill must soon get it vanished
From this earth or else the count of deaths
Can surpass the worst ever in history till date
And let's hope there would be no ilks
To replace the monster to decide our fate.
Categories:
ilks, death, emotions,
Form: Tail-rhyme
The Meadow in the Glen
The meadow in the glen lies far below.
Where brightly verdant pastures feed the elk.
And noonday warmth is heightened by sun’s glow.
Where mother’s feed young calves their fill of milk.
On tranquil afternoons, there, breezes blow.
And wildlife lives in safety with peer ilks.
At times, without intrusion man can peek.
And gaze at grazing creatures strong and sleek.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 31, 2010
Poetic form: Ottava rima
Categories:
ilks, animals, nature
Form: Ottava rima