Random Poems

Writing randomness

NATURE'S WAY (ik, cheesy title)

The foxes, they sleep

in the meadows so deep-

with blade after blade of tall grass.

And down the birds sweep

through the willows that weep-

in hunt for a lake-jumping bass.

In the fields graze the sheep,

at the bank the reeds seep,

and the hillside is flaxen and vast-

Up these hillsides do creep

are the mountains so steep;

armed and loaded with very sharp ash*.

And if one were to peep

o'er the mountains so steep,

lies a village with war-ridden pasts;

Small cars that beep,

an army-tank fleet,

and all of it's denizens: crass.

Though the women will weep-

Though the grudges will keep-

Each has a role and a task:

For down in the meadows,

down in the sands,

Peace is distributed

according to plan.

Peace is not given

to just any one man-

Our peace is balanced

for all in the land.

* ash: in reference to the tree