Is It Poetry
Our Little Flopping - Poem by Is It Poetry
Look at it, it looks at all the small children.
Gathered round, it they move with a stick to touch.
What does it eat as it lives and it rises, saying.
What is it like to live in the short dream of life?
Day runs into night all run after day,
and coming at last to the hour, humbled this table.
Transfixed through and through out one end,
and there coming in, someone is laughing, because.
This is our little flopping, hysterical I am smiling miracle.
Children, children, who is it that caught us this fish?
Comments about Our Little Flopping by Is It Poetry
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You