Caren Krutsinger Poet Rhyme

How Could They Stop At One

The days the owls rioted, I ran to my warm bed.
I got inside my quilts and I covered my head.
With their talons and beaks, they elected king Fred.
I dared not say a word, but my face was pure red.

They plotted and schemed, these fowls so smart.
I heard one of them coughing, his name is Blue Art.
We have to act now, but first, we’ll all have a Sweet Tart.
How could they stop at one? I asked Feathered Bart.

He gave me a glare and pecked hard at my feet.
Stay under those covers, or your fate won’t be sweet.
I did not dare make another noise, answer phone or send a tweet.
I knew then that I was surely about to be beat.

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L Milton Hankins December 11, 2022 at 9:35 AM I'd take that advice and stay under the covers, Caren.

Thomas Wells December 11, 2022 at 8:51 AM You are such a prolific poet, Caren. So often, I get the impression that you produce a series of poems on a single day that cannot be fully understood alone. They must be taken together like acts in a play to be fully appreciated. You truly have a gift for producing the highest quality in the shortest amount of time!