House talking to tree

"What is in your mind I think I know -

Inanimate, mortars and bricks,

Storage for accoutrements and bric-a-brac --

That I am and I do not grow.

However, this attitude of yours

Is nothing but a self serving view.

I am a living soul that breathes,

With pores to expunge the dross.

For vision I am endowed with eyes,

And for hearing acoustic devices.

Had it not been for you,

I regularly slough off old skins,

And get my habiliments clean.

No doubt you are impious tramp,

In front my face in dishabille,

You choice to camp,

besmirching my looks with decayed pulps.

Looking stupor with unkempt hair,

Bestrewed all over,

Dead leaves and kernels clogging the gutter,

Fluttering plastic ragbags for all you care,

My foot! And you wanted to be seen as concerned neighbour.

Worst, Whilst deep down your restless slimy roots,

keep slithering and tangling my boots.

For what you are, shall say, it is a bon mot,

There can be no moot,

That you are a bastard, and I wish you dead and rot.

Anyway what are you doing in town,

Acting like a past master clown?

You ought to go remote,

The likes of yours abode."

Three riposting !!

"Mate! There is no need to berate.

Save your flame, I am not to blame.

They brought me down town,

For the same reasons,

They brought that rocky bit of yours from the mountains.

Blame me not but humans,

If you know what I mean?"

Copyright Haileselassie Giramy

17/9/98