A Running Man; Fox & Bitter Grapes Poem by nimal dunuhinga
A Running Man; Fox & Bitter Grapes
He is running or a limping walk?
How far he runs?
He is tired and stopped!
And how long he could wait?
Promises are like gas-balloons in the sky.
He straightens a rickety ladder and climbs the greasy steps carefully
To pluck the cluster grapes.
A run away rabies infected fox pulls the ladder and cries down;
'Life is nothing but only a fistful of bitter grapes.'
To my dear friend Jerry for his promising health and also to Max.Reif and Dennis.Joe of their lull.
*[ It's really funny and strange, still I remember what the poor street lunatic said a long time ago after seeing my crotchety palm; 'Hey! My comrade keep your toy gun aside and you are not belongs to your motherland anymore.Your natural death will occurs in a foreign land some day.]
Your poem tells Jerry's story superbly well. Yet something tells me those bitter grapes might be just the tonic he needs. You're right. His dogged running continues. It will take more than a slippery ladder to stop him too. You are a fine story teller Nimal, as well as a talented poet. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Very compelling. You have many poetic miles to travel. Praise for your prolific pen. Warm regards, Sandra
wow, what a nice poem.... There he's got a ladder, at last 'bitter grapes' This time not a healthy fox but Rabid one...and grapes are not sour but bitter... lovely, Loving regards, Kolitha
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 4:46:49 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Thank you Nimal, my brother, for these fine words put togther eloquently. Have a great 2009. Fondly, Jerry