When of food we did talk
she would balk
of course
to feed on horse
and quail
at tasting snail
but who knew
squirrel stew
was taboo
and don't you know
altho'
I'd never cadge a badger
eating crow
was a no-no
thus dining out
was an ordeal
for there's no knowing
what could be our meal
as going hungry is not fun
when it came to the crunch
I've had ants bat and snake
for lunch
They did not lose but they did not win for they did not meet expectations
damaged goods no longer can they salvage reputations
down they go in the polls when victory feels mighty low
Becoming a laughing stock we love to mock eating crow
Life is over hyped and hardly lived up to
past glories very few can ever break through
Accomplishments do not convince if not looking cool doing it
heavily favorite win by one you are overrated and ho hum
It's not ever having fun but savagely destroying everyone
Never win your a laughing stock win too much hated a lot
Unfair is fair and fair unfair as fickle public opinion snares
win it all and wear the crown but feeling less profound
for the one you defeat laughing last with a clever tweet..
E Do not hold your breath.
P take the horse out of the rain...
E Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.
P To the given horse do not look out the teeth...
E Piss off
P inflate the scrotum volume...
E Eating crow
P Swallowing the batrachy...
E Throw everything up in the air !
P Pour water on the floor by kicking the bucket...
E Cock-and-bull- story !
P Flaccid colloquy to nurse cattle !
Os E english, P english of expression equivalent in Brazil
Work done with text of Paulo Miranda, translated and adapted by Alkas Poetry
No matter how some complain and bellow
they are exposed, each a trolling fellow
I'd look them in the eye
for telling one more lie
but I heard they're too busy eating crow
by Jenna Logan
Their "platforms" anchored, tightly tethered
Their statements all "if, ands, and whethers"
While blowing their horns
And spitting out thorns
From mouths full of fluffy crow feathers
by John Lawless
Cruel comments, sure catch one's eye
Demeaning, vindictive, but sly
Trolls aim to debase
And leave a bad taste
Perhaps they should eat humble pie
by Jan Allison
Some people just won't admit when they're wrong
Like to spin yarns and then string you along
But without any doubt
They are always caught out
Then feast on the first crow that comes along
by Tom Cunningham
Will he choke while eating crow
A feeble mind he does show
He messed in the blog
When he slopped his hog
His words are wind and they blow
by Mark Koplin
It begins with a belief.
Despite all odds, that it's a fait accompli.
The nabobs of negativity
Hang like ominous bats from a ceiling.
They screech nothing but loss.
Their lives lived as a game of ring-toss!
It's quite comical for winners,
To watch competitors become their own social dinners.
Eating crow, is made for haters.
Winners sump on champagne, steak and sour creamed 'taters!
11-2-2020
A narwhal frolicked in the Oval Office
and stirred the status quo
They tried to remove his potent tusk
but they wound up eating crow-
Much to their great dismay
babies were a little safer
the economy was aurora hot.
He thickened up the thin blue line
and wove a welcome mat for God-
He poked the giant panda in the snout
plugged a hole in our leaky bank account.
Come 2020-it'll be tough to ride a braying donkey...
when we've been purring along in a Maserati
I need a woman who doesn't mind being alone.
She's not into quail eggs but doesn't mind eating crow.
Does her own thing and is not one bit clingy.
A little bit tart but never saccharine sweet.
Slightly off the drumbeat is just fine with me.
A velvety pianist is what I don't need.
Call me a pig, but I don't like them fat.
For fat could mean an unabashed gasser.
Or a big yawner in the sack.
I need a lean black leather panther.
Or a rhinestone-studded wildcat-
She has to be witty, but I run far away from too silly.
She must live for poetry, more than she lives for me.
Likes rolling in stones and riding led zeppelins.
Slow dancing on the dark side of the moon.
She'll ride pink flamingos, just shy of the loon.
She'll fall in love with Van Gogh's fields of crows,
Salvador's melting clocks and twisting, spiral stairs.
She'll scavenge blue sea glass and musical snow globes.
Gently knead my jagged darkness into double rainbows.
Most importantly, she must make a vow to outlive me,
because at funerals I become a cracked, unwinding timepiece.
You point your finger
You laugh at our shame
You boast of your body
and lack judgment of fame
You beg for attention
And call it dimension
You cry for acknowledgement
And welcome any argument
You blame everyone but yourself
We are all wicked,
We are all cruel,
You fail to face humility
and yet, we are the fool
What a lonely life you lead
When you’re always right
And cause unity to secede
Everyone is so self righteous
Forgive me for naming the injustice
Call me friend or call me foe
It really doesn’t matter though
When you’re the only one I see eating crow.
He prepared the pie
With greatest care
Within the pot
My brains and hair
For hers had been
A lofty perch
Just a peg or two
Would never do
Cremated remains
Formed the shell
Into the plate
My crushed bones fell
I could still see
But could not yell
The pie's aroma
A story to tell
My innards baked
Hour by hour
The smell of blood
And blackened flour
Words poured in
Enhanced the flavour
The humble pie
For her to savour
Fork to mouth
My body consumed
From the plate
My heart exhumed
The baker says
She's eating crow
The taste is bitter
She eats the pie slow
The true recipe
He does not show
Humble pies plentiful
Stacked row on row
The victims many
Some you may know
If he invites you
I beg you not to go!
For Sheri's Plentitude of Pie Contest,
I went with a halloween twist.
Did you ever sit and wait
To hear from someone you just hate
You have no choice
Where's their letter
Their fat check can make you better
If someone just controls your fate
Don't get angry if they're late
Just breathe in slowly
Let it out
A smile to all
Don't ever pout
And when the cash comes to your door
Just be nice
Forget you're sore
Just say thanks
Like once before
So what's the moral of this tale
You waited daily for the mail
No more stomping on the floor
Just take the bucks
You don't need more
Don't have to sit and frown
Just laugh inside
You won the crown
Soon it's time to pack and go
No being nice
No eating crow
Just drop them all
And close the show
You might even win a Tony
For being such a real phony
(This is a fictional poem)
Because of my suspicious nature, things got pretty grim.
You were home alone with my buddy and I beat the hell out of him.
When I saw you two in my house, I thought you were cheating.
I didn't wait for an explanation, I just gave him a good beating.
The two of you were planning a surprise party for my birthday.
I took my marriage and my friendship and I threw them both away.
Now I'm crying in my beer and I'm eating crow.
When I asked if you two could ever forgive me, you both said no.
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