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Click hereBattle for the Concrete Mesa
Armies of Junes
are drawn to the Concrete Mesa
they come in March, so they May
be enlightened, nightly
But the Lord of this slab of land
a spartan soul fighting ten thousand immortals
with Babe Ruth swings of a witches flying tool
hundreds of June bugs meet their doom
They overwhelmed the army of one,
his defenses crumbled, strategy chanced
emerging with new tactics of an innovative weapon
blowing the Junes away with a blower of yards
At dawn, the battle will begin again
as many as the Persian army at Thermopylae
will March, till May, the Junes, to;
battle for the concrete mesa
One of those fun writes of the battle with the elements — in the end, bugs win.
Creatively different. I love the images. Here hundreds of years later, we face a different and less lethal enemy, bugs instead of men with swords.
Me? I'd buy a bug light but they attract more than they kill.
I loved your poem. It made me think.
like love bug season..or in okeechobee Chizzywinks Blind Mosquitos time..those critters breed by the millions...ugh...blue
who really wins the battle? The leaf blower, or the bug guts on your shoes?