Best Pitchfork Poems

The farmer made
Wooden pitchfork
Lift lot of hays....

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When death
Grabs you like
A cold corpse 
From his nest
This broken light 
Shall not rest
When death is
The cold steel 
Blue eyes
Of the gray wolf,
Howling at
The ancient
Pale moon,
Buried in 
The pitchfork 
Black sky...

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limerick

Have you heard why the farmer named Cork
commandeered a short freight train in York?
     When the hoboes from thar
     dared reclaim their hay car,
they discovered the pitch of Cork’s fork.

December 1, 2019
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