Home Land

Standing on a field of white French lilies

Breeze like a Russian blue winds round my legs

Spanish moss obscures the path, my eyes

Lift heavily to a Mexican sun

 

My Jewish mother told me to be brave

She beat the Persian rugs until they bled

German chocolate crumbles on the wooden floor

On the table, dark Brazil nuts

 

My Christian father comes home late

Eyes and mouth burn with the Grecian fire

Says I have stepped to the beat of the Indian tabla!

I have run with the Hungarian stallion!

 

My American friends tell me

Diversity is the great Trojan Horse

Take it out like Chinese

It is not a gift, but God’s curse

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[H0P3L3$$ !N$@N!TY(Luna)]

Hm, this is a hard poem to explain for me but it was a great write, keep writeing!
-Luna-