How much damage did you do that day?
When you pinned your claw into the roofing sheets
And devoured its beautiful tattered souls into piecing hay
Like tumbler which angrily hits with hammer`s weight
Which stripped the tattered structure naked
And exposed the helpless insider souls to the sky's eyes
Which made them to unjustly accuse their weakening rafters


That day when I first heard your whoosh
Like "fakafiki" of moving train on the track to base
That I was so happy that blessing will soon surface
Until I heard the wailing of my door-rush
And painful "fofofo" of surrounding trees
Like cow that notices knife on his neck


Amidst my face squeezed and fire burnt inside it so peevish
Your heavy-handedness that violently shook my town-stead
Had caused great that I couldn't pleasantly peck
The bowing heads of street poles like dead banana's head
The shameless loosing look of tightening cables like hand of dogoyaro's tree
Splashing of sands that created slopy and erosive dredges
Breaking and littering of debaunchery refuses
That filled and filed around the streets and roads in shamble
So disgust that people found difficult to have their meals
As would claim million-worth, another glory for greedies
That day sky was bright though, but later feigned it
As it raced continuously until later stoppped beneath your roughening feet


Although you clinically swept some parts and dumped it on the other part
Frankly I could say that I'm blessed with little damage
You mounted, that might not worth a ounce to hedge
As my neigbours are to pity as worthening thousands of tons
Which would attract everyone's aids and tones


I could hear neighbours' heart-beats that alleged
You of stopping his life unfair like dead clock when you edged
I could see roof that you carted away
That brewed tension between long time peaceful neighbours
When you ragingly laid it down on wrong owner's way
I could hear the hushful crying of clothline like cricket in the night
Which was accused of carelessness and trustlessness like passive leader


I could attentively listen to inaudible conversation of the town's press
That detailed disorganized and disarranged outlook it's
Which made it loose her elegant face like aged beauty laurete
As I could say, we are the harbingers of this misfortune
So, we have had enough, can you please come next time with mere breeze only
Which I see the weightest reward of earth

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nightlight1220's picture

Yea. And how about the way it

Yea. And how about the way it destroys everything, too.


Btw, I like this. Good job.

...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


truedreams's picture

thanks for stopping by

thank you for your comment, destruction image has been painted already in the poem