Fluffy faces in a topaz blue,
Smiling and slowly fading away.
over the grasslands, on to the mountains.
Great powwow in the golden west,
Building armies, that return and conquer.
Flashes in the infinite, speak in anger.
Slowly the fluffy white faces,
Turn to dark angry, grimaces,
Of warriors in full warpaint, on the warpath.
Inevitably the wind changes in the heights,
And the great army begins it's march.
Amidst rumbling of drums, and fires in the sky.
And finally the siege begins in full force.
mighty weapons hurled from the heavens,
Pitiful humans run for cover.
Against such an array of powerful foes,
man has no defense,
but to cower trembling in the dark.
6/12/12 Alton Texas
A great write, So well described, would hate to be out in that storm.
Brilliant poem, very imaginative description of a storm and one can read some depth into this too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh I love those fluffy faces-and all the rest of your powerful drama! Constance Yost