I warn you
Alike the dandelion is the thought of poet
wandering; filled of love; care, message
always soft like dreams; but…unless
represents the justice; that angers
then it turns tornado, volcano
and uproots, destroys.
I am poet and warn you:
“Don’t play with my tail…”
I can turn to storm and some gale
as is seen, in Ridge’s short poem.
Talks Lola
of my dust shaking off
and washing painful hands
somewhere there…
Deep inside your valley.
I start, pick speed
on seeing the hunger
droning my anger
though hidden, and remote
in silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice warning. I'll be sure to beware.
Ha ha ha...thanks