The Mynahs Poem by Gert Strydom

They sit deep in the gutter next to the tiled roof
sounds like machines that do hammer
and is doing something secretive
when scolding, cursing Mynahs break the silence,
are in their nest full of rubbish very comfortable,

quarrel where to each other they hiss like snakes,
on the peaceful doves are a group of demons
that do screeching fly down and peck them apart
before they return to their evil secrecy

or presumptuous patrol up and down on the grass,
as if each other living thing have got to honour them
and I wonder where they do fit into our world,
if a person has got to drive them away or ignore them?

© Gert Strydom