The Devil himself
…..he read that online
mine poetry about poverty
that poverty was about
the grammar mistakes in many poems
the stupidity started chasing me
declared instantly me-moi as his enemy
his words, so absurd
a lunatic so terrific
I thought he could read poetry
but….I was mistaken....
my beloved one never knew
the alienating appearance of this blind male
I wrote about true poetry and its poverty
he associated with politics and its tactics
I thought he could read poetry
but….I was mistaken....
thought he ran the marathon
but....I was mistaken,
he was chasing me constantly,
God said to me: " Have never fear, Sylvia
I am with you all the time"
all my fears disappeared instantly
from far I heard the thunder
and I saw the brightest lightning
a man fell down shouting for help
on my way, I passed his burnt body
terrible smell of burnt blood
Hey! That was the one who was constantly chasing me
The devil himself with his poker face
Thank you, dear Lord,
you have helped me in Your Time....
that resonates with mine,
oh Lord, You are sublimest!
© Sylvia Frances Chan