Weasel Infestation Poem by James Walter Orr

Weasel Infestation

Rating: 5.0


The weasels run, a mighty herd
Of charging little beasts.
They're waiting on King Weasel
To call them to their feast.

King weasel rubs his bristly chin,
Intending to deceive;
The weasel crowd bends to its knee,
Determined to believe.

The weasels, like the red brigade,
Will cleanse all other thought;
The land will run with bloodshed
From heretics they have caught.

The weasels run the country,
Storming homes and totally crazed;
We cattle lie and chew our cud:
A few look on amazed.

The weasels run the hillsides,
But the valleys run with blood.
The weasels run with glaring eyes;
The cattle chew their cud.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
James B. Earley 13 January 2010

Somewhere along the way, Society lost sight of its leadership role. Politicians, by definition, are the followers! Your work addresses the fact that we have only ourselves to blame.

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Marieta Maglas 09 January 2010

The weasels run the hillsides, But the valleys run with blood excellent symbolistic poem, wonderful meaning of the personification. 10/10

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James Walter Orr

Amarillo, Texas, U.S.A.
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