Of Rasputin Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Of Rasputin

I read her poem and,
As an old, ex-pilot
Shouted in microphone:
"Mayday, engine fire! "

See my wings on flame,
All motors retired,
And tongue is frozen.

Angry, lost, tired:
"SOS, help, Mayday! "

Her poem about waves
Conquers, hits surface
Of the lakes and ocean,
Then attacks the harbor.

In wave she, sees a rage!

I guess she is blind
To the facts, to nature.

Unnatural, are people.
We, who kill and murder,
Another says: "Was saved
A cow moose from the…! "

The ice, wind of poem
Are copies of the same,
That damaged the rivers,
Where a moose had fallen.

And the moose is the same
As the ones killed, hunted.

Weird are, we, people!

With these I remembered,
Neva, Saint Petersburg,
Spring, moving ice,
Rasputin drowned there!