Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Bad Poetry is a Gift. No refunds.

Large Bird of Prey, Outside my back door,
You are kinda freaking me out.
I don't like you,
though, or maybe because,
You entrance me.

You sit up high, Large Bird of Prey,
And I want you gone, knowing
That your small brain knows nothing but harm and foul.
Haha, I said "foul."

Large Bird of Prey, Hurry Up.
Just get your food and go.
Maybe make sure it's not my kid.
The three-foot wing span will remind me
Of Just How Big you really are,
But I'm willing to engage those fears to see you

I'll start throwing rock soon, Large Bird of Prey.
I'm serious. Get out of here.
You remind of mortality.
It's making me sick.


Renee said...

Okay, for real you guys, there's this bird that has been outside my backyard for almost a week now, and it's so scary, and I'm afraid it's going to think Harrison is lunch. At first I joked that it was my animal spirit guide, but now I'm like, seriously, Spirit Animal, you need to go now, before you eat a kid.

Also, that was MEANT to be bad poetry. I'm awesome at bad poetry, just like I'm awesome at bad singing. I can't do either one well, so I do it really bad to offset and deflect. Oh my gosh, please don't think I think that's good.

monika said...

take a picture of this bird you talk about. I want to see it.

meghan said...

It took me three quarters of the poem to realize you were talking about an animal and not a flower. Bird of Paradise. I am a moron.

Kristin said...

2 words...BB gun.