Poetry (24)

Hello Escritori,

I passed by these two quirky critters and just had to take a picture!


Cheek, by Owl

Hark at the lark!

She’s made a

Blue tit of herself,

Swanning around

And talking gull

About all and sundry

At ungodly hours.


She’s cut up

The blackbird

Who should’ve spoken


Frankly she’s raven

And probably cursed…


She’s put the cat

Amongst the pigeons

By speaking of dove.

You’d crow over it

She’s hardly any wit

To woo, and already

She’s anticipating

The stork…


Well she aint

Robin us, of

Our peace!

I don’t give

Two hoots!


(© Copyright Pola Negri 29/11/2015.)


2 thoughts on “Poetry (24)

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