a cow is a cow it cannot crow,
just stand on four by the green field hills;
chewing, ruminating, bending low
over and over till its had its fill.
the zebra like keyboards on a piano
characteristic of its name, and so it's fixed
cannot switch hues to and fro,
ebony and ivory just such a mix.
a tiger growls, a scarecrow's silent.
such is nature, a fixture unbending.
hunting to survive, its this much violent;
a wound unwinds itself-a-mending.
as permanent as a moment,
yet fickle like stone;
how oft we sulk and carp and lament
about a person's little mean bone;
but like a leopard keeps its spot
or weeds that grow from cracks in rocks,
actions, like carcass up on a loft
stained with blood and etched in locks.
change, they may but change they never
nature and actions just will not sever.
No apologies needed here. Yor words they tasted so good they melt in my mouth. Keep writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem Tiffanie you have a whimsical way of looking at things keep on penning