Huge Clocks

A huge gun fires its load of lead
Internationally, yet on this nation
It has pitfalls to burn and rub.
One clock is a place for change,
The huge gun manages its stare,
The time slims down with forces.

I want to find a mathematical treatise
Binding the truth with spacious items,
It needs a place called seawater or such.
The ocean can be on fire with itself,
Boiling fluids smother us within,
Liking the huge pistols and rifles of late.

A huger big man has importance of steering,
He has walls of the huge diet,
He combines me with himself.
I like to feed the ocean with the ocean,
Has it got walls to be bored with?
Has it been an ocean or a sea?
Friday, January 31, 2014
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

2/25/2021 4:03:48 AM # 1.0.0.504