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A Feast for Mosquitoes

A Feast for Mosquitoes Picking peas in the garden, My bare forearms a feast for mosquitoes. With a dozen bites or more, I think Mother Nature wrote the book On the Art of War. Each individual bite Has its own level of pain. And each individual bite I had given a name. From the pain in my forearms I would swear mosquitoes have teeth. My benefactors garden, Whose home in which I stay. He could not help me today, unfortunately has to many years of being old and gray. He felt no pain as my forearms Became a feast for mosquitoes. My benefactor got his garden peas, And the mosquitoes did not rest, Until they got their pound of flesh. Each individual bite had its own level of pain. With each individual bite I spoke my benefactors name.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 12/23/2019 4:33:00 PM
Just glad you didn't curse his name, BK! Lol! Such biting edge poetry (don't pardon the pun), bruh. I despise those flying rat bastards. Blood suckas got shined on in this straight truth anecdotal poem! Love and more love always.
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Robert Kinard
Date: 12/23/2019 8:25:00 PM
I hope man will find a way to get rid them blood suckas too. thank you for reading.
Date: 12/11/2019 8:23:00 PM
Ha, ha! Nothing like 'biting the hand that feeds you, eh?!' #$%$#@# mosquitoes!
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Robert Kinard
Date: 12/12/2019 12:01:00 PM
I was inspired to write this poem with every bite. thanks for reading.
Date: 12/7/2019 2:43:00 AM
Mosquitoes are not funny. I have never written a poem about them. I think I will now. Something funny. Thanks for the great idea!
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Robert Kinard
Date: 12/8/2019 9:08:00 PM
As you know that poem was inspired by my working for my wife's uncle in his garden. thanks for reading.