It beats me when people say one thing while in essence they mean something totally different: they say 'red' when they mean 'black'. This kind of vacillation is very evident especially in matters concerning the weather. When it's cold, they want it hot; when it's hot, they want it freezing! (Blue blistering b…!)
The poem below, which I wrote on 5th of May 1997, was occasioned by this human response to the capricious quality of weather.
God's Country
The sun rises with renewed anger,
With rage, it 'serves' its heat,
To the life below;
People cower,
Plants shrink and droop –
Heat by day, cold by night,
Days turn to months.
Plants, angered by this routine,
Refuse to bear fruit,
Making futile the efforts of man,
To till, level and sow,
On dry ground,
Famine envelops the country
Leaves turn brown and crispy,
Shed they are, wanted no more,
Plants wither and zap! disappear,
People grow thin
And, a ‘sun tan's’ a must.
After months on end,
Clouds sparsely gather,
Becoming a big, black mass,
They growl, declaring war on sun,
Then they spit to the ground,
Their hard-earned spittle.
Plants less with anger,
And full of bloom, sprout,
Giving the country a green,
Expanse of leafy mass,
That promises fruit,
To hungry beings.
People gain weight,
Eating the fruits of their labour;
But then:
Mud spoils their shoes,
Colds cost their pay,
The weather spoils their day,
Is all thanks they have to God.
P.S.:- I love good poetry. I also love to write poems, in addition to other forms of writing. PKW, I love your poem, The Road in Flamingo. Hilarious, it is. The imagery it encapsulates is overly fascinating.
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