In Russia's arms doth Donald lay,
Putin's hands clutching clay.
All thoughts from Vlad come this day,
His forming hands this world doth prey.
When day is done his breath is still,
Having sculpture be his will.
Now troops in Caracas bold,
Traded for that country's gold.
Donald says zero to this play,
For he can't lead this nation's way.
Korea, too, is mocking high,
“Insipid Donald!” our nation's cry.
Barry G. Wick