There was a woodpecker whacking,
Continuous sound nerve-racking.
Distressed in the mind,
Making my teeth grind,
Tap-tapping will send me packing.
Standing outside, I clapped my hands,
Sending him off to no-man's land.
But no, he just sat,
And started to tap.
His tapping, how will I withstand?
For Poet Destroyer's contest, 'Silly (Funny)'
Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve