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.
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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