ramblings and things

1,225,695 poems read


There are turbines for the city
Rearing high off the ground,
Three armed monsters whose
Arms spin around and around.
And they sing their own song
As they move through the air,
A repetitive whining swishing
Whooshing high pitched whirr

They stand there on the skyline
Dominating the view,
Either things of stark beauty
Or things unnecessary and new.
I don't know as I like open sky
And open vistas as a norm,
But can see some merit in
Their sparse clean form.

Modern windmills too high to
Tilt at or to vanquish in a fight,
Their solid construction much too
Strong for any one man's might.
So I look at them with acceptance
And by trying hard I find
I can recall the original views
From those depths of my mind.

Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem