He Saved Three Chickens and a Moose
He saved three chickens and a moose
Captured them … then set them loose
Rustled some words, put them on paper
This, it is said, his most dangerous caper
For words can be twisted for purpose or fun
The most brilliant of meanings reduced to a pun
He sits now, alone, in a dark shaded place
For what’s etched in stone cannot be erased
His words, they were true, this everyone knew
But meanings they changed with how the winds blew
So he writes now with chalk, erases it quickly
And with it erases that feeling quite tickly
That chuckling quiver from synapse to liver
Of a poetic taunt he had to deliver
They’ve forgotten the moose, they’ve forgotten the chickens
They’ve forgotten him while still quoting Dickens
And though he still writes in flashes and spurts
He’s avoided the sanctions of the poetic courts
So set your thoughts down, don’t let them shrivel
Just don’t etch ‘em in stone they might not be drivel
John G. Lawless
©2/14/2023
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