Poetry

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Look at the giant,
Made along with you;
It is defiant,
That you can construe.

It eats as cows do,
The grass on the plain;
That stays green from dew,
And from the light rain.

The strength in its back,
Muscles with power;
All of which you lack,
For you are sour.

It makes its tail firm,
Like a cedar tree;
For such a long term,
Through the darkness see.

Its bones are bronze tubes,
Just like iron bars;
Eyes just like ice cubes,
Face is full of scars.

It is as the first,
Conquests for the Lord;
To hunger and thirst,
To come with His sword.

The hills bring it food,
As the beasts play there;
Giving a good mood,
Willingness to share.

It lies at the plants,
Hiding in the reeds;
But could hear its chants,
God gives what it needs.

Poplars by the stream,
Through the river flows;
Tranquil it may seem,
That God only knows.

Can you blind its eyes?
Pierce its nose with snares;
Is it a disguise?
In which evil dares.

Copyright © 2016 Richard Newton Sherrer

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