Quatrains of 2006

Wings of the Eagle clipped,
Smaller Nations dance on her dying Wings.
For all the posturing of the eagle,
Bronze only her treasure.

White Shoes, White Shirt and White Suit.
Pastor to the Chris,
Lethal tumor to the Brain,
Hemorrhage leads to death.

Momentum and Velocity in the dance of stress and strain,
Plates collide at death’s boundary.
The earth quakes at San-Francisco Bay,
Millions homeless, deaths in thousands.

Crises in the church on every street.
Two ambitious “vice” try to upset the apple cart.
The principal to ill for six, fetish charms behind the sick.
Recovers to unmask their deed.

The warrior to peace everlasting.
The Mayor and his henchmen to“bata”dance on the dusty streets.
“Foul” cries the subject of the warrior with cudgels and cutlasses,
Fountains of blood turn the seven hills red.

Of excess oil sales of yore,
The missing report unearthed from the past.
The foolish wise one on the hill to probe at last,
The Eagle forages on his linchpins at random.

From the eastern fringes of the southern land emerges the youthful leader,
To the extreme reaches of the northern land bellows of protest.
The agrarian middle gets the vice, whilst the old father protects.
To the present OPEC, the oil finally his, as the nation watches.

The dribbler gets dribbled,
To disease and degeneration the limb of yore.
The surgeons knife the only cure,
A refusal, a dribble to the final kip.

The glare of two billion pairs of eyes,
At the mercy of the samba of the boys in yellow and blue.
History to repeat as four decades ago,
As the red cross of St. George steals into the final.

The heavens weep heavily,
The Ganges and the Yangtze are overwhelmed,
Their banks cannot contain the tears,
Millions watch helpless at their drowning peers.