Treasure Island

James Walter Orr

(02, June,1930 / Amarillo, Texas, U.S.A.)

Weasel Infestation


The weasels run, a mighty herd
Of charging little beasts.
They're waiting on King Weasel
To call them to their feast.

King weasel rubs his bristly chin,
Intending to deceive;
The weasel crowd bends to its knee,
Determined to believe.

The weasels, like the red brigade,
Will cleanse all other thought;
The land will run with bloodshed
From heretics they have caught.

The weasels run the country,
Storming homes and totally crazed;
We cattle lie and chew our cud:
A few look on amazed.

The weasels run the hillsides,
But the valleys run with blood.
The weasels run with glaring eyes;
The cattle chew their cud.

Submitted: Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, October 20, 2009

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Comments about this poem (Weasel Infestation by James Walter Orr )

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  • James B. Earley (1/13/2010 9:39:00 AM)

    Somewhere along the way, Society lost sight of its leadership role. Politicians, by definition, are the followers! Your work addresses the fact that we have only ourselves to blame. (Report) Reply

  • Marieta Maglas (1/9/2010 8:39:00 AM)

    The weasels run the hillsides,
    But the valleys run with blood

    excellent symbolistic poem, wonderful meaning of the personification.
    10/10 (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

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