The Poisonous Parrot
A parrot sits on my shoulder.
Unlike those that squawk, mine tends to whine.
When she is in the mood,
she moans and moans and moans.
No Polly-Anna Parrot is this one!
My pain she keeps repeating,
and hearing of it hinders me from being
more completely sympathetic to the pain
of others in my life.
As she dribbles cracker crumbs of pessimissm
from her annoying and ugly noxious beak,
it’s so difficult to pluck her from my ear.
Alas! I’m hearing the sound of my own voice,
for ‘tis I - who taught her how to speak.
Jan. 20, 2019 for
Maureen McGreavy's Plucking the Poisonous Parrot Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2019
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