THE FOWL BALL
by
Gregory K.
I went to the Fowl Ball
Held at stately Barnyard Hall.
The Chicken came. The Duck did not.
The Pheasant danced the Turkey Trot.
The Rooster grabbed the microphone.
The Hen performed on slide trombone.
We laughed and played, a happy group....
And danced until we flew the coop.
(I'm posting an original poem-a-day through April in celebration of National Poetry Month. Links to this and other poems here on GottaBook (and there are lots of others, because poetry is NOT just for April) are collected over on the right of the blog under the headline "The Poems".)
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
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4 comments:
Gregory,
This one's cute...really cute!
This is day #11 of April--and I've got my fingers crossed that I'll be able to write/rewrite nineteen more poems to post this month at Wild Rose Reader. I was a silly old goose to follow your lead! I guess I can't duck out on this one--that would be poetic fowl play. Sheesh...I'm not even getting chicken feed for all my work.
Do I sense that you're bawking at the workload? I'm sure you can do it. Besides, don't you know that folks like me are gobbling up your poems?
That was fantastic, terrific, I can't even say it! Well, I actually can say it. It's... supercalifragilisticexpealidocious! Love, Halle
(P.S. from Rebecca, how perfect, we're going to catch fowl balls at Dodger Stadium tonight)
Thanks, Halle! And I hope y'all caught a ball for me....
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