Kite
Like a jet
He came roaring over
Up above the sky
With his eyes looking
Down on the aerth
The chickens feeding
In the yard saw the shadow
And cried, ran away to a corner
He saw the chickens
He then stood still
And with one swoop
He was on ground
The men shouted
He flew into the sky
With a victim under him
UP,UP in the sky,He flew
Until he is gone
To his place
To devour his prey
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| The masochistic treat of Niger | 0 | 12/15/2011 |
| Grimmer of Life | 0 | 12/13/2011 |
| Life | 2 | 07/31/2009 |
| PEN | 2 | 07/29/2009 |
| Storm's Over | 2 | 07/29/2009 |
| Tears | 1 | 07/27/2009 |
| Native | 5 | 08/12/2009 |
| Kite | 0 | 07/27/2009 |
| Lost in desert | 3 | 07/23/2009 |
| Stolen | 0 | 07/27/2009 |
| Doubts | 1 | 07/17/2009 |
| Return to me | 0 | 07/17/2009 |
| Silent Night | 0 | 07/17/2009 |
| Wicked stranger | 0 | 07/17/2009 |
| Moments of silence | 2 | 06/19/2009 |
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