Antarctic pilots tell of times
When things are slow, and so they'll find
A penguin colony in climes,
Thousands of them in groupings lined.
The plane will slowly fly on by.
In unison will turn the heads
Of all the penguins, eye by eye.
A huge black and white wave that spreads.
The plane flies out, then back it treks
Right over the penguins in packs,
Watching with ever stretching necks,
Till all fall over on their backs.
For penguins, planes do have a way
Of perking up a penguin's day.
Beautiful write, Ima, my fav - the last 2 lines you've an interesting way of looking at other forms of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Penguins lined as dominoes, Standing stiffly in the snow, Wobbling to stand upright, To warm their eggs tucked out of sight; An evil pilot flying high Dipped his wings when passing by; Setting off s wild cascade Guinness Record broke that day