THE FLIES.
Who could I turn to in my distress?
The flies have plundered my home,
they will not leave me a minute of peace,
attacking me fiercely like foes.
Across my eyelids and eyes they race,
in my ears they recite their poems,
like a pack of hungry wolves they devour
my bread when I’m eating alone,
and as though I’d asked them over like friends,
they take what they want on their own.
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It seems they’re only seeking their share
when I offer them lamb and wine
but that, it turns out, isn’t enough:
they also covet what’s mine.
If I summon guests to come and dine,
at the head of the table they swarm,
and so I long for winter lest
I starve because of them.
Its cold and rain will wipe them out
thank God, who dwells with the cherubim.
Good poem. I wrote a poem about a fly not too long ago. Check it out, maybe you will like it.
https://steemit.com/poetry/@johnwjr7/aftxf-buzzed
Check my new post. Follow me, I'll follow you back. https://steemit.com/religion/@babyjessa/it-isn-t-about-religion-it-s-about-god
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