Lazy (one dimensional) writer, rarely seen. Began writing lateish in life (2007) Absolutely no platform from which to comment or criticise the work of other strugglers in the world of 'poetry'. I do, however, enjoy the occasional saunter to a Gig, where I can see what others might see in my stuff.
Pheasant or Quail The grass is greener, so they say, But not from what I saw today The 66 the road I rode And where I saw a bird explode A pheasant or perhaps a quail Is subject of this tragic tale The gamebird tried to make a dash To cross the road, but made a hash Of getting to the other side, Failing after one full stride. So was the birdie on the run? Was he feared of hunter’s gun? Had he merely lost the plot? Maybe yes or maybe not, Makes no odds, this final ramble Proved for it too great a gamble, For as the bird approached the road, He thought no more about the code, (the Green Cross code) that he had learned. So, seemingly quite unconcerned, The quail (or pheasant?) thus was doomed For as the major highway loomed, Oblivious, the gamebird ran Into the path of Sherpa van And pheasant (or the quail?) took flight A truly mesmerising sight Somersaulting in the air Plumage flying everywhere Up he flew, and dropped as fast Thus the gamebird drew its last The rise and fall of a glorious bird A curious life with ending absurd
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
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