Who gave that almighty yell?
Like a giant with a rotten toothache
'What-in-Lucifers name' this sour taste?
'What in damnations name' that awful smell?
The likes of some teenage Jesus
One who hasn't?
Changed his innocence or his britches?
Since-first-he-had erroneous boyish itches.
Then God, with his thunderbolts
Struck; plunged a toothpick!
And dislodged the mucus; and sighed
'Begone my son' into the world of madmen.
And there finds a dovecot-house
In a child's heart: Sublunary,
White as the driven snow
And there smothers it as your own
With giant bellows toxic groan.
What a strange perspective, but I've never really had a father or had a son so I guess somethings are above my imagining. Good Poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very fine child's heart, I like it. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.