Mouths have a way of running away from us...
They are as of yet-uncontrollable, to say the least.
A very strange and ferocious beast...
They do well at times, make us to cuss.
No mess...
No fuss.
They seem to at times run us over...
As if driven over-by a bus.
We get flattened and under foot...
Alas-alas-we be gone-capoot!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love how you used the months in this poems very delightful Please if you get time can you read a few poems of mine chapters of life and all my life thank you and god bless