The behemoth was silhouetted in the dark
In ominous hues stark.
The moonbeams poked the phlegmatic sky
Tinged in sheepish hues.
The marauders came
Rearing to play a vicious game
Clip clop Clip clop
Stop! A hustle, a bustle
A violent show of muscle
A Blood - curdling scream slicing innocent dreams.
Hush. Silence pin drop.
The morning was a radiant hibiscus
Fragrant too.
But darkness was still replete
Injustice had been perpetrated.
In impotent fury the clouds grated
Their teeth.
In triumphant glee the behemoth celebrated
His dubious feat.
Chirp chirp Tweet tweet
"Look, mom, how sweet."
Chirruped a tiny tot
Only to have his squeals reduced to naught.
In the shadows the behemoth still lurked
Viciously two eyes glowed, as he smirked.
Happy that he had squashed the sunlit laughter
That he was after.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem