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